


The King's Crow

by Earlgreyer



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Flirting, Bathing/Washing, Bathtubs, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Flirting, Grinding, Laughter, Laughter During Sex, Licking, M/M, Masturbation, Moaning, Nudity, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Touch, Touching, blood mention, brief murder, men kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 07:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6792838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Earlgreyer/pseuds/Earlgreyer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ferelden needs to bolster its military strength.  An alliance via arranged marriage is the answer.  Or the fic where Alistair is King of Ferelden, and Zevran is an Antivan Prince.  Shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a prompt from vmello who requested Zevistair arranged marriage fluff. Me being me, I threw in a dash of porn. It's a slow burn folks, but we'll get to the E eventually! 
> 
> It started as a short prompt and quickly took on a life of its own! I can't write short fic?

“Nope! Nope! Absolutely not! I will not marry that beast!” Alistair paced back and forth, wearing a path in front of the fireplace. He stopped and turned, pointing aggressively at Eamon. “Not only does she think I’m unfit for the throne, her father was a traitor! He offered up Cailan and the Grey Wardens for his stupid alliance! I’m gonna see him every time I look at her. Not happening. That’s final.”

Eamon sighed. “If you won’t marry Anora, then we are going to have to make an alliance with Orlais or Antiva. We need the stability that the additional military power would bring. So it’s either Empress Celine’s cousin, or an Antivan Prince. Orlais can offer their army, and Antiva has the Crows. Either would be suitable to bolster to our own forces.”

Alistair made a gagging sound. “So an old woman or some random Prince from Antiva? Those are my alternatives!?” He pulled his fingers through his hair. “I am NOT going to marry some random person from Antiva, prince or not.”

“So then, I should let Celine know you will accept the hand of her cousin?” Eamon tried to hide his smirk.

“NO! Ugh! Why are these my only choices?” Alistair threw his hands up. “Can I at least meet him first? Before I decide? I should be allowed to see if I can stand being in the same room with him for five minutes.” _Probably won’t be able too. Most likely he’s an arrogant twit who thinks he’s suave._

“I will arrange an invitation to the palace. We’ll host a ball and have him stay for a while. A week or two should be more than enough time to form an opinion.”

 _Oh, I’ve already formed an opinion._ “Fine.” He flung himself in to a nearby chair and snatched a piece of cheese from the tray on the table, popping it into his mouth. Around the half chewed dairy product, he managed a barely intelligible, “But, if hezzz an ash, which izz likely, I’m shending him packing.”

 

XXX

 

“Stop fidgeting, Alistair.” Eamon nudged at his elbow, tugging his hand to his side. “ _Try_ to look regal.”

Alistair pulled at the collar of his jacket. “This is choking me. I’m going to die of asphyxiation, and a spouse will be a moot point.” The jacket wasn’t tight. He was, in fact, fidgeting, but he couldn’t help it. In a few moments he would be meeting his future husband. He _supposedly_ had a choice, but there was no way he would seriously consider the Dowager from Orlais. That left the prince as his only viable option.

“Alistair,” He ignored the rest of what Eamon was about to say as the Herald began to introduce the members of the Antivan delegation.

The announcement carried through the room, and Alistair began to sweat. “Prince Zevran Arainai, of Antiva.”

Alistair’s focus was riveted on the elf standing at the top of the stairs. Prince Zevran was scanning the gathering with an amused look, taking in everything. _He’s incredibly handsome._ Alistair had heard rumors to that effect, listening as the servants gossiped when the Antivans had arrived. Words like ‘sexy’ and phrases like ‘bed me anytime’ were most common. It was widely accepted that if King Alistair agreed to the marriage then he’d be one very lucky man.

Alistair found that he wholeheartedly agreed, at least based on looks. Every eye in the room was focused on the prince, and he obviously knew it. _He’s enjoying the attention._ Alistair almost choked when, instead of sedately descending the staircase, Prince Zevran skipped down the steps, snagged a glass of champagne from a passing tray, whirled around a dancing couple, and waltzed his way across the floor, stopping right in front of him, one foot on the bottom step of the dais.

Zevran made a sweeping bow to Alistair and winked cheekily. “Your Royal Highness, I am Prince Zevran Arainai, of House Arainai of the Antivan Crows; royal bastard, cunning assassin, exceptional lover, and an exceedingly handsome catch.” There was a smattering of shocked giggles from nearby nobles, and several red-faced and visibly frazzled servants scurried to catch up to Zevran. They apologized profusely to Alistair for the breach of etiquette and tried to wrangle the prince into some semblance of order.

Alistair bit his lip to stifle a laugh. “No, no. It’s quite alright. Please, let him go.” He walked down the few steps, putting them on equal footing, hoping to create an amiable situation. “Prince Zevran, it is a pleasure to meet you. I’m Alistair. Although you probably knew that.” He blushed and mumbled, “Idiot. Of course he knows that. Who else would be standing in front of the throne?” His flush deepened. “Um, so…”

“Your Highness, you are even more handsome than I was told. Not as handsome as I, but definitely the next most handsome man in the room.” Zevran’s eyes sparkled like nothing Alistair had ever seen. _And that smile, well, it’s devastating, isn’t it?_ Alistair was charmed by his mischievous attitude but wasn’t sure what to say. Instead he blushed and fiddled with the buttons on his cuff.

Zevran attempted to hand his glass of champagne to someone behind him, obviously expecting them to be there to take it. When no one did he let the flute go and it crashed to the ground. While his entourage realized what happened and scrambled to clean up the mess, Zevran bowed and offered his hand to Alistair. “May I have this dance?”

Alistair watched the chaos around the Prince with a smile. He wasn’t sure what to make of him, but he was definitely intrigued. “Um, yes. I mean, I’d be delighted.” He was propelled onto the dance floor by a gentle but firm hand on his lower back. The crowd whirling past as Zevran expertly guided them through the steps of the dance. Alistair struggled for something to say. _Say something witty. Or humorous._ “You’re a good dancer.” Alistair blushed to the roots of his hair. _You’re a good dancer?! Oh, Maker, strike me dead now._

Zevran chuckled. “Your Highness, I am an _exceptional_ dancer. But then again, I am remarkable at everything. But you are quite skilled as well. You move so fluidly in my arms. This is a result of your military training. _Sí_?” Alistair knew he should be put off by the incredibly bold behavior but instead he found he liked it. Zevran pulled him closer. “I think we make quite the beautiful couple. Do you not agree?” `

“No.” Alistair blushed. “I mean _yes_. Wait, _No_! I mean,” He sighed, wanting to crawl into some dark corner and hide. “ _You_ are beautiful. I’m just a big, gangly, oaf who would be tripping over himself if you weren’t leading.”

Zevran smiled that devastatingly handsome smile, and looked into his eyes. Alistair’s heart did a little flip. _I’m in so much trouble._ “My dear King, you are quite big.” Zevran ogled him, making a grand show of it before leaning in and murmuring, “If what is pressing against my hip is what I _think_ is pressing against my hip, big is a most appropriate choice of words.”

Alistair _did_ miss a step at that point, his face burning again. Breathlessly he mumbled, “Prince Zevran, I think I might need some air. I’m feeling a bit dizzy.” _Sweet Andraste, Alistair, get a grip on yourself._ He let Zevran steer them across the dance floor towards the open doors to the balconies. He hurried through and leaned his hands against the railing, concentrating on calming his racing pulse and letting the Spring evening breeze cool his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Zevran lounging against the balustrade as if he didn’t have a care in the world. _Which he probably doesn’t_. Alistair had heard the rumors about the Prince’s penchant for carousing and sleeping around. Eamon favored a match with Orlais for just that reason. Alistair stole another quick glance. _He is so beautiful though._

There was movement behind them and Alistair spun around quickly. He caught a glimpse of a knife nearing his throat, and before he could bring up his hands, Zevran was wiping blood from his daggers on the jacket of a dead man. Alistair blinked, and the daggers disappeared, tucked away wherever they’d come from. _You were just pressed against me and I didn’t feel them. Where are you hiding them?_ Zevran stepped over the body and took him by the arm. “Your Highness, perhaps we should go back inside. Might I suggest a drink? You are looking a bit dazed.”

As Zevran led him back into the ballroom, Alistair craned his neck to look at the man lying dead on the balcony. He absently mumbled, “You just saved me.” He was still trying to determine what had happened.

“It is nothing. I am glad I was there to assist you, although I am sure that if you had not been distracted by my magnificence, you would have noticed the assassin much sooner. Well, the _other_ assassin. So this was mostly my fault.” Zevran maneuvered him along the edge of the dancing guests, keeping him away from the crowd. He looping their arms together, and proceeded at a sedate pace, creating the appearance of an intimate moment. They casually strolled to the dais and Alistair sat down. Zevran gently pulled Eamon aside. There was a quick exchange and Eamon motioned for two guards to position themselves near Alistair.

“Alistair, please stay close to Prince Zevran until we’ve ascertained if there are any other threats. We are going to do our best to keep this quiet and not alert the remaining guests.”

Zevran pressed a glass into his hand and stepped back. Alistair quickly reached for him. “Don’t go. Please.” He took a large gulp of whatever was in the glass and sputtered slightly as the liquid burned its way down his throat. He blinked back tears. “What _was_ that?”

“Legacy White Shear. From my own personal supply.” Zevran looked smug.

“And do you always have it so handy?”

“One never knows when it might be beneficial.” Zevran winked at him.

He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, the adrenalin, or the cheekiness, but a warmth began to spread through him, making it difficult to concentrate on anything but the handsome, smug elf standing in front of him. He stood and set the glass on the table, taking Zevran’s hand and rubbing it between his much larger ones. “Prince Zevran,”

“Please, we have spilled blood together. Call me Zevran.”

Alistair huffed out a laugh and gently kissed the deceptively delicate looking hand. “Zevran, thank you. I’d probably be dead if it wasn’t for your quick reflexes. I owe you a great debt.”

Alistair’s knees went weak as Zevran softly kissed his palm, all the while gazing into his eyes. “Perhaps we can come to some sort of mutually beneficial arrangement?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is a very short chapter I thought, why make you wait? So here it is!

Alistair slouched in his chair and looked out the window. He’d been stuck in this meeting with the Ferelden and Antivan delegates for hours. They were negotiating the terms of a possible betrothal to Prince Zevran. _I wonder if he’s awake yet. It would be nice to have someone to talk to while all of it is happening._

Most of the remaining discussion revolved around minor details. The important issue regarding support for Ferelden from the House of Crows had been covered first. _And now they’re haggling over silk._ At least that’s what he thought they’d said. _Or It could have been milk. You just never know._ He noticed the long pause in the conversation, and glanced up. Everyone was looking at him expectantly. _Maker’s Breath! Have they asked me a question?_ He cleared his throat, made a few non-committal sounds, and managed a flustered, “We should probably discuss that further.” There were several nods and everyone went back to the negotiation. He was rather pleased with his recovery, although Eamon gave him a disgusted look.

_Maker this is so tedious! Where is Zevran? Perhaps he’s a late riser._ Alistair suddenly had a vision of long golden hair spread out across his pillows, warm bronze skin contrasted against bright white sheets, and beautiful amber eyes opening slowly, gazing at him tenderly, a sweet sleepy smile just starting to pull at the corners of his full lips.

Alistair stifled a soft moan and sat up, trying discreetly to adjust himself as his body began to respond to his daydream. _Sweet Andraste, preserve me. I barely know him and I’m already imagining him in my bed._ He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. _Stop Alistair. Just stop. He’s not a commodity to be traded.  He’s not a piece of meat._

Alistair hauled his attention back to the discussion. Heated deliberations were happening concerning how long the betrothal period should be. The Antivans wanted to proceed immediately. Alistair had begged Eamon for at least a few months. He wanted to get to know his prospective husband, and make sure they both were truly in favor of the match. He didn’t want to marry anyone who didn’t want to marry him.

Alistair looked to Eamon, and received a small nod. He breathed a sigh of relief and stood up, no longer able to deal with the stress of his life being bartered like casks of olives. “If you all will excuse me.” Eamon didn’t look pleased, but Alistair chose to ignore him.

He hurried out of the room before anyone could stop him, striding down the hall to the back stairs, which lead directly to the kitchens. Food always made him feel better. He skipped down the steps, but slowed when he heard a distinctly wicked laugh and a delicious Antivan accent. His heart raced and he pressed himself into the shadows, carefully peering around the corner. He almost stumbled forward at the sight.

Zevran was seated cross-legged in the center of the kitchen table, cutting potatoes and gossiping with the old kitchen matron, Gertie. She sat on a bench next to the table, grinning wildly and hanging on his every word. “And he said, ‘Well, what if I do not want to take my clothes off?’” They both laughed raucously.

Zevran finished cutting the last potato into cubes, and hopped off the table. “What else may I help you with?”

“Oh, you’ve done so much already! I’m sure people are wondering where you are. No need to spend your entire morning in the kitchens with me!” Gertie waved him towards the door. “I’ll get one of the younger kitchen workers to help me put the pot on the fire.”

“Nonsense. I have thoroughly enjoyed my morning with you. You have fed me and in exchange, I have helped you. It is a fair trade.” Zevran hauled the incredibly large pot to the fireplace. Alistair bit his lower lip and watched the muscles beneath Zevran’s shirt flex and strain against the delicate linen fabric. He fought the urge to reach out and touch. Zevran hooked the pot over the fire then stood and groaned, stretching his arms above his head. The hem of his shirt rose with the movement and Alistair caught a peek of golden brown skin and several dark tattoos. _Maker, he’s beautiful._ Alistair quietly whimpered. Zevran paused and tilted his head in his direction. There was a brief flash of a smile, and then it was gone.

Gertie thanked him again, pulling Zevran’s attention back to her. He leaned down to kiss her weathered cheek. “May I be of any further assistance, _abuelita_?”

“No thank you, dear. You are so sweet to help me.” She patted his hand fondly, and shooed him out of her kitchen.

Zevran turned and looked at the dark stairwell where he was lurking. Alistair held his breath, not sure what to do. Zevran winked in his direction, then left through the main door. “I shall visit you again soon, lovely lady!”

_He knew I was here._ Then realization dawned. _He was showing off!_ The thought made him embarrassed but also excited. _He was showing off for **me**._ Alistair grinned and entered the kitchen with a spring in his step. “Good afternoon, Gertie! How are you today?”

Gertie’s hand flew to her chest and she gasped. “Oh, King Alistair! You gave me a fright!” She laughed at herself and wiped her hands on her apron. “I’m well. Thank you for asking.” She smiled at him fondly. “Come to snitch some food? Here, let me make you a plate.”

Alistair sat on the bench she’d vacated. “You know me too well.”

“I should hope so, after so many years.” She put a platter of cheeses and fruits down in front of him. “This should hold you over until the regular meal is served.” She patted him on the shoulder and moved back to her cooking. Alistair mumbled a thank you around the cube of cheese he’d already stuffed into his mouth.

He sat quietly, eating and thinking. He was desperately trying to reconcile the sweet, generous elf who helped the kitchen staff, with the flashy, flirty rogue and the deadly Crow assassin. He was incredibly intrigued. _Getting to know him like I want will be all but impossible in the palace. There are too many gossips and prying eyes. I have to get him away from court._ He popped another cube of cheese into his mouth, formulating a plan.


	3. Chapter 3

_I will never be able to sit down properly again_. Alistair reigned in his horse, slowing his pace to a walk to spare his backside further anguish. He winced with every step and hunched over the pommel, trying to find a bearable position. He watched Zevran with envy, so at ease in the saddle.

“My dear Alistair, your lands are quite lovely.” Zevran glanced at him over his shoulder and realize his predicament. Alistair watched in amazement as Zevran turned himself around in his seat, riding backwards while continuing to speak. “Why don’t we stop for a while? Perhaps we could rest for a bit under that tree by the water?” He gestured absently towards a huge willow at the edge of the bank.

Alistair swallowed a whimper of relief, and nodded. “Yes, that sounds like an excellent idea.” Zevran turned himself around and lead them the few yards towards the shady tree. He dismounted effortlessly and reached for the bridle on Alistair’s horse, whispering soothing words to the animal and coaxing it the last few steps. Alistair slid down the side of the horse with very little grace and a whole lot of groaning, holding on to the horn and cantle for stability. The process was far too clumsy to be called a dismount.

Zevran touched his arm, his face full of concern. “Are you alright, Alistair?”

He nodded and tried to catch his breath, smiling a little self-consciously. “Yes, it’s just been a long time since I’ve ridden. I’ll be fine once I can feel my arse again.” He chuckled ruefully and rubbed his offended anatomy. He hauled the saddlebags from his horse and began unpacking them. It felt good to move and as he did, his muscles seemed to become less cramped and stiff. He put a blanket down and handed the wine and opener to Zevran, sure he knew what to do with both. Alistair sank to the ground with a grateful sigh, stretching his long legs out across the blanket and propping himself up on an elbow. “I forgot that riding a horse was so taxing.” Zevran smiled and leaned against the tree, watching him closely. _What are you thinking behind those beautiful amber eyes?_ “Copper for your thoughts.”

Zevran handed Alistair a glass of wine and took a sip of his own, rolling the liquid across his tongue, getting a sense of the complexities. “You are not what I expected.”

Alistair chuckled. “I get that a lot.” He hurried to explain. “I wasn’t raised as nobility. I grew up in Redcliffe, the bastard son of a King and a simple serving maid. My mother died when I was very young, and I don’t really remember her much.” He pulled at the chain around his neck and lifted it over his head, holding it out to Zevran. “This was my mother’s. It’s all I have of hers. Anyway, I worked in Eoman’s stables until I was 10 and then I was sent to a monastery in Bournshire, with the intent that I would join the Templars.” Alistair shuddered. “I hated it there. I hated everything about it except the arms training. At least that bit was good, and I was fairly decent at it. Then when I was nineteen Duncan showed up, and I was conscripted into the Grey Wardens. _That_ was the best day of my life. Everyone knows the story from there. I fought alongside _The Hero of Ferelden_ and he ultimately put me on the throne. Truthfully, I’m really just an awkward and unsophisticated nobody pretending to be King.” He rested his chin in his hand. “I’m not very good at politics and I tend to think everyone has good intentions. Eamon laughs at me for that.” He looked worriedly at Zevran. “I’m sorry if you’re disappointed.” _Please don’t be disappointed. I’m really starting to like you._

Zevran had an odd look in his eye but his smile was genuine. “Alistair, I doubt you could ever disappoint anyone. You are like a sweet, cute Mabari. Always eager to please. But I will wager that you are also deadly when necessary. No?” Alistair didn’t mind the comparison. It was nicer than a lot of others that he’d heard over the years. “But how it is that someone as handsome and powerful as you, has not already been wooed and won?”

Alistair blushed at the compliment, unable to hide his smile. “Well, there wasn’t anyone who was interested in the bastard son of a nobleman and a servant. I was basically not worth noticing and, well, I’m pretty much a bumbling embarrassment in most situations. Once I became King I had more suitors then I could stand. They were all vying for the opportunity to marry me, but only because of my title. None of them wanted _me_. Initially, I was able to persuade Eamon that I needed time to become familiar with the responsibilities of ruling before I could even think about marriage. Which _was_ true. But that only worked for about a year.” Alistair couldn’t mask the shudder. “Then the parade of eligible spouses started.”

He picked distractedly at the edge of the blanket. “There are some really horrid people out there, willing to barter away siblings or children for a chance to have the King’s ear.” He started to get angry. “You know, growing up I had humbler expectations. I wanted to meet someone, and fall in love, and be happy.” He shrugged. _No sense dwelling on what can’t be._ “Now I’ll settle for being with someone I like, who likes me for me.” He looked directly at Zevran. “It’s important to me that I’m with someone who doesn’t resent me for trapping them in a loveless marriage, or hate me for not being what they dreamed of.” Zevran held his gaze, but said nothing. Alistair cleared his throat and hoped that he hadn’t said too much. “So, um, enough about me. What about you?”

Zevran smiled at that. “What about me?”

Alistair shrugged. “What do you do for fun? What’s your favorite color? Do you have any pets? I just…” _Why is this so difficult?_ He mumbled softly, “I like you. I want to get to know you better.”

Zevran gave him a wary look, like he didn’t believe him, but he shrugged and began. “I, too, am a bastard son of a King, but in Antiva we are as common as whores. Which is fitting, since many of us end up in that profession. I was, in fact, raised in a whorehouse until I was seven. At which point I was purchased by the Crows and taught to be an assassin. Naturally, I excelled at the training, but I have a natural ability to succeed at anything.” Alistair smiled, beginning to recognize the boasting for the armor that it was. “I was so spectacular that I was put into a special unit with two other exceptional recruits and we worked together on all assignments as a team. Taliesen was our muscle. And Rinnala came up with the plans. Rina was… she was special.” Alistair watched Zevran as he spoke. His face took on a soft quality when he spoke of her. Alistair felt a stab of jealousy. Then Zevran became a bit sad. _What if he wants to be with her and this whole arrangement is keeping them apart?_

“Zevran…” _How do I say this without insulting or rejecting him?_ “If you’d rather be with her, I would understand. I wouldn’t pursue this marriage.” He was utterly unprepared for the range of emotions on Zevran’s face. Surprise, gratitude, anger, then resignation.

“That is not possible. Both Taliesen and Rina are dead.” That was all he said about it and Alistair could tell that it was not a subject open for discussion. Zevran’s mask slipped back into place and the brilliant smile was back, but the sparkle in his eyes was missing.

Alistair instinctively placed a hand on Zevran’s thigh, wanting to offer some comfort. “I’m sorry. That must have been very painful.” He realized where his hand was and quickly snatched it back, cheeks burning.

Zevran chuckled and teased him. “No need to remove your hand, Alistair. In fact, I wouldn’t mind if you touched me in several other places as well.” Alistair sucked in a breath at the blatant invitation in Zevran’s half-lidded gaze. He blushed to his toes and ducked his head, so he was completely taken by surprise when he felt a gentle shove. He ended up on his back, looking up at Zevran’s beautiful face. “Alistair.” Zevran threw a leg over him, straddling his hips and smiling suggestively. Alistair swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. His hands itched to grab Zevran’s narrow hips, to feel them roll against him like they rolled with the sway of the horse. But he willed his hands to stay where they were, on the ground, gripping the blanket like a lifeline. “I would think you do not find me attractive, except, well, I am _me_. And you blush so prettily when I catch you looking.” He cocked his head to the side. “Am I wrong?”

Alistair couldn’t make coherent words so he shook his head, vehemently. Zevran chuckled. “So you _do_ find me attractive. This is good to know. Then, why do you refrain from touching me? We are practically engaged.” Zevran leaned over and ran his hands across the fabric over Alistair’s chest. “And even if we were not, I would welcome your touch. You are a very attractive man, Alistair.” Alistair closed his eyes and forced his body to stay still. _Pleasepleaseplease_. He wasn’t sure if he was asking Zevran to stop or keep going.

He felt Zevran shift and then he was no longer on top of him. Alistair opened his eyes and turned his head, looking for him. He was leaning against the tree facing away. “I will tell the delegation that the negotiations need not continue. As you say, I do not wish to force you into a marriage that you do not want. Perhaps there is an Antivan Princess that would make you happier.” Alistair scrambled to his feet just as Zevran turned around. His face was a neutral mask and it pained Alistair to see it.

“Zevran,”

“It is fine. Please forgive my boldness. I had assumed… Well, that is irrelevant.”

Zevran walked towards the horses but Alistair gently grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Zevran, I, um,” _If you don’t say something he’s going to think he’s right. Damn your own uncomfortableness! He’s feeling like a fool! Say something!_ “I do find you attractive.”

“Just not in that way. Yes?”

“No! I mean Yes! Oh Maker’s Breath. I do find you attractive in that way!” He forced himself to meet and hold Zevran’s gaze. “So very, _very_ attractive.” He rubbed his neck with his free hand. “It’s just, well, I’ve never…”

A smile split Zevran’s face, but it wasn’t mocking, as Alistair had feared it would be. He seemed relieved. “Oh! You have never been with a man! Well, it is practically the same as with a woman, so,”

Alistair gave him a pleading look and shook his head. He quietly mumbled, “Um, no.” _I will not look away. I will deal with this like an adult._ He watched as Zevran’s expression went from puzzled to stunned.

“Oh! I see.” Alistair held his breath, waiting for the rejection and scornful words he knew were coming. He looked away at that point, unable to deal with the ridicule. He jumped when he felt a hand on his arm. “Alistair, you are a virgin?”

Anger flared and he tried to yank his arm away. “Yes. Go ahead and laugh. 'The ridiculous Ferelden Virgin King. Twenty-four and still hasn’t been with anyone. What’s wrong with him?' I’ve heard it all whispered behind my back. Sometimes someone actually has the courage to say it to my face.” He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to ignore the very soothing way that Zevran was caressing his bicep.

“This is nothing to be ashamed of, Alistair. And it explains so much. Of course you have resisted my charms! And now the blushing makes so much sense!” Alistair fidgeted. _Not helping, Zevran_. A gentle palm against his jaw had him turning his head. The look of wonder on Zevran’s face was a bit disconcerting. “Alistair, may I ask you a few, very direct questions? I believe them necessary or I would not ask.”

 _Why not? I doubt that I could be more embarrassed than I am now_. “Sure.”

“Do you truly find me attractive?”

He blushed profusely but nodded. “Maker, yes. You are _so_ beautiful.”

Zevran smiled and squeezed his arm lightly. “And are you alright with marrying a man?”

Alistair nodded again. “Yes.”

“And are you alright with marrying _me_?”

“Sweet Andraste, yes. I _really_ like you. You are funny, and kind, and so easy to be around. Well, most of the time. _This_ is a bit awkward but that’s not your fault, really.” Zevran gave him one of those blindingly amazing smiles and Alistair’s heart swelled.

“Alistair?” He loved the way Zevran said his name. The smooth cadence, the way he almost growled the ‘r’ at the end, had him yearning to hear him say it over and over.

“Say it again.”

Zevran grinned wickedly. “Alistair.” His voice was low and seductive and made him ache to be touched. There was a pause and Zevran tried again to get his attention. “Alistair?”

He forcibly dragged his gaze from Zevran’s lips back to his eyes. “Yes?”

“May I kiss you?” His silky smooth voice made Alistair’s knees weak, his mouth went dry and he couldn’t seem to form words. So he nodded. He clenched and unclenched his hands, keeping them by his sides, unsure what to do with them. He felt Zevran’s light touch along his arm and across his shoulder, as gentle fingers settling against the base of his neck, tenderly drawing him lower. Time slowed as his sensual mouth came closer, the tightening in his chest making it almost impossible to breathe. And then Zevran’s warm lips were softly brushing against his. The rush of desire was unlike anything he’d ever experienced and he couldn’t stop the quiet whimper.

Alistair felt the smile against his mouth. Zevran stepped towards him, pressing closer, sliding his arm around his waist, as his fingers splayed against the middle of his back. Alistair had imagined this hundreds of times over the past three days, wondering if it would be as wonderful as everyone had said kissing was supposed to be. They hadn’t even come close.

Alistair’s focus narrowed until there was nothing but Zevran. Only Zevran, pressed against him, completely reshaping his world with a single kiss. The light flick of his tongue against the inside of his lip made Alistair gasp. The soft nibbling at the edge of his mouth sent shivers through him. The way Zevran’s fingers wrapped into his hair, needy and demanding was almost too much and his body responded immediately. Alistair slid his arms around Zevran and pulled him flush against his hips, groaning at the delicious pressure against his aching cock.

It was everything he’d hoped kissing Zevran would be. It had him a bit light headed and disoriented, and he needed a moment to collect himself. With every ounce of willpower he possessed, Alistair reluctantly ended the kiss, gently resting his forehead against Zevran’s. _That. I want more of that. I want more of you._ No one had _ever_ described this feeling. Or maybe they tried, but without a frame of reference he hadn’t understood. Now it was all he could think about. And he wanted to make Zevran feel like that too.

He leaned down and kissed Zevran, flicking his tongue lightly between his lip and teeth, feeling him sigh against his mouth. _Oh Maker! Do that again._ Alistair proceeded with more confidence, wanting to please him, hoping he was doing things properly. Zevran hummed encouragingly and Alistair stopped thinking. He leaned into the kiss and lightly dragged the tip of his tongue across the roof of Zevran’s mouth. The way he moaned and pulled him closer set Alistair on fire.

He could feel Zevran’s cock, hard against his thigh, and he slid his hand along his hip, slowly gliding lower, wanting to touch him. Zevran grasped his writs, stopping his hand with a firm squeeze, while his mouth trailed gentle kisses along his jaw, and nuzzled softly into his neck. The warm breath against his skin sent shivers through him. “ _Querido, tenemos todo el tiempo. Mas despacio_.” Alistair didn’t speak Antivan, but he knew what the firm grip on his hand meant. That was a definite stop. Yet the breathless tone of the words, and the light kisses along his neck said the opposite. So maybe it wasn’t yes or no, but just not now?

He felt so many conflicting emotions and he wasn’t sure what to do. “I don’t understand.”

Zevran pulled back slightly and gently cupped his face with a palm. His amber eyes were almost black with lust and Alistair groaned. _I did that. He does that to me_. Alistair tried to pull him closer and Zevran pushed gently against his chest. “Alistair, there is no need to rush things. Let us enjoy the kissing. Savor the anticipation of the rest. We have all the time in the world.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just more silly fluff :)

“I haven’t done this in ages! Eamon usually won’t let me leave the castle without at least four bodyguards. And this is now the second time he’s let me out without them.” Alistair could barely contain his excitement and he squeezed Zevran’s hand. “It’s because of you. He trusts your skills to keep me safe.”

“As he should. But, does he not trust you to take care of yourself? You fought with _The Hero of Ferelden_! You killed numerous darkspawn and helped to defeat the Archdemon. Surely he does not question your abilities.” Zevran looked truly confused.

“I think Eamon remembers me as a ten-year-old boy. But he’s also afraid of a lucky strike taking me down, and throwing the country into chaos. I guess I can’t fault him.” He grinned at Zevran. “But with you along I’m allowed to lose the bodyguards.” He couldn’t contain his grin. “Well, under certain circumstances. The market isn’t too much of a risk.” They rounded the corner and the market opened up in front of them. “Where to first?”

“I would like to look for a new set of knives. You can never have too many.”

Alistair looked to see if he was teasing. He wasn’t. “How many knives to you have?”

“In total? Or on me right now?”

Alistair shrugged. “Both?”

“I have lost count of the exact number, but I own at least fifty. However, they are not all for the same purpose. Some are throwing knives. Some are ornamental gifts from pleased patrons. Most are functional and are of varying sizes which allow for concealment based on placement and the clothing I am wearing.” Alistair stepped back and looked him over trying to figure out how many knives he had on him. Zevran grinned, held out his arms and slowly turned around. “What is your guess, Alistair?”

He really had no idea. “You mean in addition to the two strapped to your back? Um, four?”

“Seven. And I’m feeling a bit light, which is why I want to stop at the weapons stall.”

Alistair shook his head but pointed to the right. “Gorim Saelac is who you’ll want to see for pre-made weapons. They are all Dwarven so the quality is exceptional. But if you want something custom, then you’ll want to visit Wade’s Emporium. Wade’s a bit odd, but his artistry is unparalleled.”

“Let us start with the Dwarf.” They made their way to the shop and while Zevran looked over the smaller blades, Alistair investigated the swords.

He watched as Zevran palmed a blade, flipping it forward and backward in his hand, feeling the weight and balance. “So why knives?” Alistair hefted a longsword, taking a few swings with it.

“Why swords?”

“Well, for one thing, reach. Long before you could hurt me with that knife, I’d have run you through on my sword. It’s just a basic matter of distance.”

Zevran smirked. “And a sword is so very easily hidden. And incredibly quiet as you unsheathe it. And so light even a child could wield it.” Alistair blushed and shrugged. “You see, my incredibly handsome King, each weapon has its advantages and disadvantages. I would not suggest knives as a frontal assault weapon. Nor would I suggest just anyone use them against an opponent wielding a sword. But for clandestine attacks, for secreting weapons, knives and daggers are almost always the better choice.” Zevran handed the dagger back to Gorim. “Thank you. I will consider before I purchase.”

They walked away from the shop and drifted towards the center of the market. Alistair took Zevran’s hand, enjoying touching him even in this small way. There were several children running and screaming through the stalls, causing havoc for the merchants as well as the customer. On the second pass one child bumped into him, jarring him slightly. Just as the boy spun to run off towards his friends, Zevran reached out and yanked him back by the scruff of his shirt. Zevran crouched down next to the child and held out his hand, waiting. The boy glowered at him and shook his head. Zevran chuckled. “You are quite bold, I will give you credit for that. But you picked the wrong mark. I am Zevran Arainai, of the Antivan Crows. Have you heard of them?” The boy blanched and quickly pulled a coin bag out of his shirt and handed it to him. Alistair recognized it as his own and patted down his pockets to confirm it. He was missing his money.

“Sorry! Didn’t mean nothin’ by it! Just tryin’ to survive is all. It’s so difficult being an orphan. No one to care for me. Nothin’ to eat most nights.” The boy’s lip quivered and tears threatened to fall.

Zevran hefted the bag and slipped it into his shirt. “Excellent story. But don’t pour it on too thickly or it will seem unbelievable. Next time, get your friends to cause a distraction. It may go easier. Or, pick a slower target. With the running around you might try the trip and fall technique.” The boy looked at him warily. “Here let me show you. You stand next to me. Now turn to go but trip yourself and grab onto my waist.”

Alistair watched incredulously as Zevran taught the boy how to pick pockets better. He was completely unsure how he felt about it. _On one hand he is promoting thievery. On the other hand, it is sweet, and kind, and he’s being so very patient with the boy_. Alistair couldn’t help but smile.

They practiced the _trip and fall_ several times, each attempt looked better than the last. On the final try, when the boy successfully lifted the coin purse from his pocket and he was satisfied with the performance, Zevran winked and walked back to Alistair. The boy looked at the purse in his hand and then at Zevran, obviously debating what to do. With no more delay than that, he took off into the back streets of Denerim. Alistair sighed. “You know we’ll never find him again.”

“I do not intend to look.” Zevran headed towards the center of the market. Alistair hurried to catch up, weaving their fingers together again, and keeping pace.

Something was definitely going on and Alistair was determined to figure it out. “You don’t know that boy?”

“Not specifically. But I know hundreds like him. Destitute. Starving. Scrambling for any way to survive. I was him.” Alistair kept quiet, unsure what to say, not knowing if saying anything would be welcome. He felt Zevran squeeze his hand and the smile on his face was genuine. “Alistair, do not look so sad. Perhaps that boy will end up like me one day, walking through the market in Denerim, holding the hand of the Ferelden Monarch.”

Alistair stopped and pulled Zevran close, placing his hand against his cheek and running his thumb along his jaw. “It makes me sad to think that your life was so difficult.”

Zevran leaned against his palm and smiled. “Yours was not much easier. And it has made me the man that I am. And I would not change that.”

Alistair looked earnestly into his eyes. “Neither would I.” He leaned down and kissed him softly, heart fluttering as Zevran moved closer and placed a hand against his chest, kissing him back. When he slowly pulled back, Zevran’s eyes were closed and he had a soft look on his face. Alistair gathered him into his arms again, and kissed the top of his head. “I like you very much just the way you are.” Zevran’s weight against him brought a lump to his throat and he wanted to stand right there forever, holding him. Instead he cleared his throat and reluctantly released him. He took Zevran’s hand and strolled towards the center of the market.

They looked through the ware in different stalls, finding books and potions from Tevinter, flowers and scented oils from Orlais and oddities from even farther away. Zevran stopped and chatted with a merchant selling wicked looking daggers and sturdy shields. There was a brief exchange of money for goods, but Alistair didn’t see what Zevran purchased. He thought perhaps he wasn’t meant to, so he didn’t ask about it. Then they made their way to Wade’s Emporium. Alistair was greeted with a deferential bow by the store merchant, Herren. “Your Majesty, are you looking for new equipment?”

“Zevran would like to see your blades. Knives and daggers to be specific.” He placed a hand on Zevran’s shoulder. “I need to speak with Wade. Take your time.” Alistair wandered into the workshop and was welcomed effusively by Wade. “Oh! Your Majesty! I’m honored that you’d step into my humble workshop. What will it be today? More Dragon Scale Armor? Perhaps some Dragon _Skin_ Armor!”

Alistair grinned at his enthusiasm. “Actually I was hoping that you’d be able to make me something even more exceptional. I need you to craft a unique gift for someone very special.” He glanced back at Zevran. “Only someone of your exceptional skill could pull this off.” He quietly gave the requirements, hoping that Zevran would be occupied with Herren for a while.

Half an hour later Wade rolled up the drawings he’d made and set them aside. “Leave this with me, Your Majesty. I will have a prototype for you by the end of the week.” He turned back to his workbench and Alistair knew he’d been dismissed. He wandered back to the front of the store just as Zevran was finishing his purchase.

“New knives?” Alistair watched him flip the blades in his palm, a wide grin on his face.

“These are exceptional. I have also placed an order for some custom designs. You know Alistair, _Señor_ Wade would make a fortune working in Antiva for the Crows.”

Herren’s ears perked up and he was about to say something to Zevran, but Alistair steered him towards the door. “You will not steal my most prized armorer and whisk him away to Antiva! Don’t even think about it.” He pushed Zevran out into the sunshine and headed towards the back of the district.

“Where to now, my handsome King?” Alistair blushed. _My handsome King_. He liked being Zevran’s something.

“The Wonders of Thedas.”

“Ah, I have heard of this Wonders of Thedas, even in Antiva.” He gave Alistair an appraising look. “Lead on! I am eager to see this place.”

Alistair wasn’t sure what Zevran expected but it certainly wasn’t worth the excitement in his eyes. “What exactly did you hear about it?” They walked down the back street and stopped in front of a plain looking door. There was a small placard visible, with three intersecting gold circles and a crescent moon. It was the only indication that the building wasn’t just another warehouse in the back end of Denerim.

Alistair opened the door and ushered Zevran inside. He followed, wandering along the shelves looking at all of the books and potions. “I love it here. They have so many odd things.” He looked over his shoulder at Zevran who had a very puzzled look on his face. “What?”

Zevran shrugged. “I thought the "Wonders of Thedas" might be a whorehouse.” Alistair blushed to the roots of his hair.

“If you wanted… I mean, that is, if you have a need to… Oh Maker! Never mind.” Alistair turned back to the shelves, cursing himself under his breath.

He jumped at Zevran’s hand on his arm. “Alistair.”

“Sorry.” He looked at the items on the shelf at eye level. “Where do you think they get all this stuff?” He pulled a random book from the shelf and flipped through it.

“Alistair.”

He turned to walk deeper into the store. “Do you think they, um, have any miniature golem dolls? That’s why I came in here. I heard they have some.”

“ _Alistair_. Stop. Please.”

Alistair turned back to the shelves, leaned his forehead against the bindings of the books, and closed his eyes. “You’re free to do what you want. We aren’t even officially betrothed. And even if we were, I’m sure you must want someone with more experience. I don’t blame you.” _Maker why are we having this conversation in the middle of a shop?_

“Alistair, please look at me.” Alistair took several deep breaths trying to control his emotions. He was smitten. There was no use pretending he wasn’t. It wasn’t love. Not yet. _But it easily could be_. He reluctantly turned his head and looked at him. Alistair desperately wanted to be what Zevran desired. But he was realistic enough to know that it probably wouldn’t ever work out that way. Zevran stepped closer and took his hand. “I have been with many, many people, Alistair. Both men and women.”

Alistair rolled his eyes. “Thank you. That makes me feel so much better.”

Zevran continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “I feel no embarrassment from this. Sex is a natural urge, and consenting adults need feel no shame for giving each other pleasure. However, it is also controllable. I have no pressing need to be with anyone else.” Zevran squeezed his hand and Alistair nodded. “You know that there is no shame in not having been with anyone. Whether by choice or circumstance, you are not experienced. This does not mean that I am going to fall into bed with the servants, or run off and indulge at the Pearl.” He pulled Alistair towards him. _He’s stronger than he looks._ “Alistair. You are a good man. And very handsome. And I genuinely _like_ you. I would like to see where this takes us.” He gave Alistair’s hand a squeeze. “And I make you this promise. If I ever decide to indulge elsewhere, I will speak with you first. I will not sneak behind your back. It is not my style, and it is not fair to you. Alright?”

Alistair smiled shyly, feeling slightly better. “Alright.”

Zevran raised himself up on his toes and kissed him softly. “Shall we go ask about the golem?”


	5. Chapter 5

**The Kingdom of Ferelden**  
**Announces the Royal Engagement of**  
**King Alistair Theirin of Ferelden**  
**to Prince Zevran Arainai of Antiva**  
**Wedding will take place in Denerim during**  
**The month of Justinian, nine thirty five Dragon**

 

Two days after the trip to the market, the delegates came to an agreement on the betrothal terms. The engagement was formally announced and Zevran and his party were readying to return to Antiva to make preparations.

Zevran closed the door as the last of his luggage was taken to the waiting carriages. He looked at Alistair expectantly but he wasn’t quite sure what to do. “Um, travel safely. I hope you make good time, and the trip is uneventful.” He knew he sounded like he was saying goodbye to a matronly aunt rather than his betrothed, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

Zevran smiled and stepped closer, placing his hands against Alistair’s chest. “Alistair, I will not see you for two whole months. I was hoping, since we are alone, for a bit more of a personal goodbye.”

Alistair blushed and smiled nervously, grabbing Zevran’s hips and pulling him closer. “Perhaps something like this?” He leaned down and softly kissed Zevran’s mouth with a confidence gained from lots of practice over the past few weeks.

Zevran hummed against his mouth and leaned into the kiss, his hands wrapping around Alistair’s torso and holding him firmly. He slowly pulled away, and took a breath. “Yes, I was hoping for something exactly like that.” Zevran stepped back and took Alistair’s hand, leaving the now mostly empty rooms and walked to the main landing.

Alistair watched the servants scrambling to load carts with trunks and betrothal gifts, feeling his mood slipping towards melancholy. He softly mumbled, “I’m going to miss you. I’ve become used to you being here. You make the days infinitely more enjoyable.”

Zevran squeezed his hand. “My dearest Alistair, I will be back in Denerim in two months and then you will be wondering when I will go home for a visit.” His laugh made Alistair smile in spite of his looming mood.

“Perhaps I could write to you while you are away.” He ducked his head and fidgeted. “Maybe you could write back?” He risked a peek at him.

Zevran was smiling wickedly. “And what exactly would these letters say, _mi hermoso_?”

Alistair’s pink cheeked grin made Zevran laugh again. “Um, whatever we felt like saying at the time, I guess.”

Zevran leaned close and whispered, “Will you tell me that you miss me? That you miss my kisses, and my touch? Will you tell me that you dream about me?” Zevran’s voice dropped lower and he squeezed Alistair’s hand. “Will you tell me what it is you want me to do to you? Or what you would like to do to me?”

He knew that Zevran was only teasing him, but those letters sounded perfect, and he could feel himself responding to his silky voice, and the visions he was placing in his head. “Yes. If you want.”

Zevran laughed again. “Oh, Alistair, I do believe we will be alright. I do like you, very much.”

Alistair felt his mood lift. “I like you very much, too. And that _is_ a good start.”

Zevran gave him a quick peck on the cheek and they descended the steps together. The delegation was waiting, and before Alistair could say or do anything further Eamon stepped forward to extend the formal farewell.

“Prince Zevran, the Kingdom of Ferelden wishes you and your entourage safe travels. We look forward to your quick return.”

“Thank you Arl Eamon. I shall return as soon as I have tied up loose ends in Antiva.” Zevran turned to Alistair. “Your Highness. I look forward to returning to you soon.” He took Alistair’s hand and softly kissed his palm just like on the night they met.

And like that night, Alistair’s knees went just as weak. “Please do.” _Better yet, don’t go at all._ Alistair watched Zevran climb into the carriage, whishing it were already two months from now. He walked to the carriage, and when Zevran extended his hand through the window Alistair took it between his own. “It will be so lonely without you here. Please, write.” He could feel Eamon watching him and he didn’t care. Zevran leaned out of the window and kissed him lingeringly before caressing his cheek and sitting back in the seat. There was a tap on the roof and the carriage trundled off towards the Denerim docks, and the ship waiting to take the delegation back to Antiva.

 

XXX

 

7 Drakonis, 9:35 Dragon

Zevran,

Well, you only left yesterday morning but I already miss you terribly. Yesterday was incredibly boring and Eamon made me sit through meeting after meeting about the wedding. I don’t really think he understands that I don’t care what flowers we have or who is on the guest list. ~~I can’t stop thinking about you.~~ Eamon finally let me escape after he realized that my attention was elsewhere.

I put the golem doll that we bought on the shelf between the stone demon and the stone dragon statuettes. ~~I look at him and think of you.~~ It reminds me of our day in the market and makes me smile. ~~You make me smile.~~

I miss having someone to talk to. Please hurry back soon.

Yours,

Alistair

 

13 Drakonis, 9:35 Dragon

 _Mi hombre magnífico_ ,

I only arrived back in Antiva City yesterday, and today I have a letter from you. I am so proud of your restraint! You waited a full day before writing to me! It was a sweet letter, if a bit light on content. We are to be married, after all. You could try to make the details a bit more personal. Here, let me give you an example.

I find that I miss your company as well. No one here blushes the way that you do. I am teasing, of course. But, truly, your view of the world, the way you look upon it with wonder and eagerness, is refreshing, and what I miss most. This, and kissing you. You are very good at kissing, Alistair. And I think about it a lot. While I was aboard ship, I would think about kissing your soft, ruby red lips. The creaking of the rigging would remind me of those little moans that you make when I nibble on your ear. The slow sway of the ship had me imagining how it will be with your naked body pressed against me, your hard muscles rippling under my hands as your hips rolled against mine, you slowly thrusting into me.

Needless to say, I did not get much sleep during the week-long journey. I am here in Antiva for the next four weeks, packing and readying for my permanent move to Denerim. Then I will board another ship and head south, back to you. I promise to try to control myself when I see you next. At least until we are alone. After that, I can make no further guarantees. You were an incredibly quick study on the kissing, and it makes me wonder what else you will pick up quickly.

Think of me often,

Zev

 

20 Drakonis, 9:35 Dragon

Zev,

Hopefully It’s OK if I call you Zev, since that’s how you signed your letter. Let me start by saying that I miss you even more now than when you first left. Were you trying to kill me with your letter? I’m not complaining! But Maker! I wasn’t expecting that! I was in a meeting when it was delivered, and of course I read it immediately. I’m sure you can guess what happened. I can see your beautiful, wicked smile now. I turned several shades of red, and had to excuse myself, so I could ~~re-read the letter a few more times~~ compose myself. Eamon was less than pleased with my behavior, but what was I to do?

I think about you all the time. Sometimes I think about how strange this is. I didn’t even know you existed a few months ago. ~~And now I can’t imagine a happy life without you~~. I think about spending time with you, just talking. I love how you listen to me ramble and don’t get frustrated or bored. Well, at least you don’t seem like you do.

I think a lot about our picnic and ~~I touch my~~ you. The way you straddled ~~me~~ your horse. I, um, well, I can’t stop thinking about how your hips moved, and at the time I was afraid you’d think I was depraved if I said anything, and then you, we, um, Maker! This is hard. ~~not like that though! I don't mean, well I suppose I do but~~ \- I want to do things with you. I’m not even sure what, but I want it, a lot. What things would we start with?

I eagerly await your return.

Alistair

 

29 Drakonis, 9:35 Dragon

Alistair, you warm my heart. I commend you on your efforts to write a suggestive letter. Excellent first attempt, _mi novio_.

I will be making my way back to Denerim in three short weeks and I promise you, we will do whatever it is that you want. There are so many things I think about showing you. There are thousands of ways to pleasure the body and I would take my time and show you them all. But what would come next? Touching, of course.

From your last letter it is clear that you have no issues with this. I must tell you that this is a very enjoyable thought for me. I have been thinking about you touching yourself while thinking about me. A bit confusing to write, but very arousing. Alistair, I want to watch you touch yourself. I would like to know what brings you pleasure. I want to give you that same delight, and more.

When I am lying in my bed at night, I think about how it will feel to have your strong hands on my body. I will show you what pleases me, as I learn what pleases you. I would stroke you and feel you grow hard in my hand and watch your handsome face as you find the joy in your release. I would touch you in places no one has ever touched you before, and watch as you writhe in pleasure, calling my name. Together, we will learn to please each other in so many ways.

 _Tu eres mi distracción favorita_.

Zevran

 

9 Cloudreach, 9:35 Dragon

Zev,

Sorry if my penmanship is poor. I’ve just read your letter and my hands are still shaking. In a good way! I mean, I’m not nervous or scared. I guess I’m shaking with anticipation? I want all of those things you wrote about. I want to feel you touching me. I want to touch you, too. I want to know how to make you happy. Um, intimately. Maker! I can’t believe I’m writing this kind of thing down on paper! But it’s very exciting! And, well, I love reading about what you want to do ~~to me~~ together.

Well, I’ve heard about things. You know, that people do with each other. ~~And I can’t stop thinking about your mouth on me.~~ Maker! No. I’m just going to write it. Please don’t think me depraved! I keep thinking about your mouth. On me. Everywhere. Sweet Andraste, help me, it’s all I think about at night. The way you kiss me, the way your tongue makes me lose my mind! And we were only kissing. What would your mouth feel like on other parts of me? Sweet Andraste, I want to find out.

I know you’ll be back in Denerim before a reply would reach me, so I’ll be content to count the days until I see you again. I’ve missed you so much.

Ever yours,

Alistair


	6. Chapter 6

Alistair looked out over the gardens and watched the preparations for the engagement party. It was still two weeks away but workers were busy pruning and weeding and planting and the castle was abuzz with activity. He’d taken to hiding in his rooms, waiting for Zevran to return. Eamon had called it pining. _Maybe he’s right._ Alistair chuckled at his own ridiculousness. There was a soft knock at the door and then the Chamberlain entered. “Your Highness, the Antivan delegation should be here within the half hour. Runners have spotted them on the road.”

“Thank you. I’ll be in the main hall to greet them.” Alistair began to panic. _What if he remembers me differently and is disappointed when he sees me again? What if he is only humoring me because he has no choice and they are forcing him into this marriage?_ Alistair looked at himself in the mirror, fidgeting with his collar and fussing with his hair. Hopeless. He turned away from the mirror and began pacing the room.

There was a second knock at his door and Eamon poked his head in. “Alistair?”

“I’m here.” He continued to pace.

Eamon took one look at Alistair’s stricken face and sat him down in a chair. “Alistair.” He sighed good naturedly. “You need a drink.”

“Yes. I think I do.” Alistair rubbed his hands along his thighs and took deep breaths.

Eamon went to the cabinet by the desk and pulled out a bottle of Antivan brandy and two glasses. He poured generous servings and put the bottle back before turning to Alistair and handing him a snifter. “Cheers.” They both threw back the drink and Eamon sat, watching him closely. “Alistair, why are you so nervous?”

He rested his elbows on his knees and looked at Eamon. He could tell that Eamon knew, or thought he did and he sighed in resignation. _Might as well get this over with._ “It’s all so much.” That’s all he could manage to get out.

“The wedding? The arranged marriage?” He put his hand on Alistair’s leg. “It doesn’t have to be a bad situation. Isolde and I managed well enough. And you and Zevran seem to get along alright.”

At that, Alistair smiled. “Yes, Zevran and I get along very well actually. He seems OK with this arrangement.”

“But you aren’t?” Eamon looked confused.

“No! I mean yes! I, oh Maker!” He scrubbed his fingers against his scalp, looking at Eamon helplessly. “What if I’m more than OK with it?”

Eamon looked utterly bemused. “Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

Alistair threw up his hands and groaned. “But what if he doesn’t feel the same? What if he’s only being a good sport and trying to make the best of a difficult situation?” Alistair could feel the panic rising.

“Alistair, would that be so bad? It would be preferable to him not trying. Wouldn’t it?”

“But, he’s so… and I’m just… and how could he ever be happy with just me?” He wanted to scream in frustration but clenched his jaw and took deep breaths.

Eamon clapped a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. “I know that look, son. Do you care for him that much?”

Alistair looked confused. “I… I guess, yes. I just want him to be happy here. With me. I want him to _want_ to be here. I want him to want… me.” The last word was almost whispered and he wasn’t sure if Eamon even heard him.

“Alistair. You are everything that someone would want in a spouse. You’re a kind, generous man. You’re handsome. And you’re a sweet soul.”

“See. It’s that last bit that has me worried.” Alistair frowned and looked down at his hands.

“What? Sweet?” Eamon looked utterly lost, and it started to frustrate him.

“Because! He’s so… I mean, I’ve _never_ … And he _has_.” Alistair shot out of the chair and started pacing again.

Eamon stood and held out a hand, catching Alistair by the arm. “Alistair.” Alistair didn’t want to hear platitudes. _Everyone goes through this. It’s normal. Ugh!_ “Alistair!” Out of habit his eyes snapped to meet Eamon’s and he was shocked by the understanding he saw. “Alistair, I was in a similar situation myself, you know.”

“Wait. _You_ never?” Alistair was shocked.

“No!” That earned a chuckle from Eamon. “Similar but not the same. Isolde was not… _experienced_. And she worried about the same things you are right now. But let me tell you, from the opposite side of the situation, that it was nice to take things slowly. I would get to be the one to show her things she’d never experienced with anyone else. And I truly cared about her.” He put his hand on Alistair’s arm. “I believe Zevran cares for you. Maybe not the same feelings you have for him. Not yet. And it may never be the same. But I think he likes you a great deal, and wouldn’t want you worried about this.”

Alistair nodded. It was all things he’d told himself, but it was comforting coming from someone else that he trusted. “You think he cares?”

Eamon chuckled. “Zevran is a tricky one. He hides his feelings well. But I’ve been around a while, and have a strong need to see you happy, so I watch. _Carefully_. I’ve seen a glance here and a touch there that gives him away.”

Alistair looked down and grinned like a fool. But he felt infinitely better. _The drink didn’t hurt._ “Thank you, Eamon. It means a lot.”

Eamon stood and pulled Alistair into a hug. “You’re like a son to me, Alistair. I will always look out for you.”

“Thank you. For everything. I love you too.” He watched Eamon leave and checked his appearance in the mirror one last time before heading to the Great Hall to meet his betrothed.

XXX

Alistair fidgeted and Eamon gently pushed his hand back to his side. “Seems we’ve done this before, Alistair.” He smiled indulgently. “Stop fidgeting. He’s as nervous as you are.”

Alistair found that hard to believe. Zevran seemed unflappable. And yet, as he watched him exit the carriage he thought maybe… He hadn’t realized he’d moved until they were face to face. He looked into Zevran’s warm amber eyes and held his hands in his. “Hello.” It was just loud enough for Zevran to hear, but there wasn’t anyone else who needed to hear it.

Zevran squeezed his hands and returned the smile. “Hello, _mi novio_.”

Alistair wrapped him in his arms and kissed him, softly but intently. He felt the tug of Zevran’s hands as they slipped around his neck and pulled him closer. Alistair flicked out his tongue teasingly and shivered at the low moan he received in response. He felt his own hands trembling, wanting desperately to lose himself in the kiss. He reluctantly pulled away, aware of the dozens of eyes gawking at them. He smiled sheepishly and stepped back, still keeping his arm around Zevran’s waist. “I missed you.”

“ _Sí_ , I believe everyone is aware of how much we missed each other.” Alistair could feel the heat on his cheeks but didn’t feel badly about it.

He took another step back and held Zevran’s hand. “How was your trip?”

“The trip was uneventful, and now I am here, and happy to be so.” Alistair looked closely, trying to see if he meant it, or if it was for show. _I think he means it. Please, please mean it._

“I should let you get settled in. I’ve had you moved to the rooms next to mine, but if you’d prefer to be elsewhere, I can have other rooms prepared.”

Zevran grinned wickedly. “I think that arrangement will work out perfectly. Thank you, Alistair.”

He blushed but smiled and returned the grin. “So once you are unpacked, maybe we could spend some time together. A walk in the garden or something? I’m sure you are exhausted from traveling, so if you’d rather wait until tomorrow, I’d understand.”

Zevran cut him off, placing his fingers gently against Alistair’s lips. “ _Novio_ , I would love to spend time with you. And a walk through the gardens sound lovely. Perhaps I could meet you in your rooms before we take our stroll. I have brought you a gift and I would like to give it to you.”

Alistair felt a rush of excitement. “A gift? What kind of gift? Can I have a hint? Is it bigger than saddlebags? Is it smaller than my fist?”

Zevran laughed loudly at his eagerness. “If I had known you liked presents so much I would have bought you something sooner!” Zevran’s laugh was like a balm to his worried mind. “I will have to keep this in mind for those times when you are angry with me. Perhaps I can bribe my way back into your good graces.”

Alistair’s breath caught at the sparkle in his eyes. Before he knew it he was caressing Zevran’s cheek with his knuckles. “I could never be angry with you.” He jumped as Eamon cleared his throat. Alistair looked at him and relaxed when he saw the soft smile.

“Perhaps, Your Highness, we could let Prince Zevran find his rooms and get things settled.” He gave a brief glance at the waiting servants who were watching the exchange with an intensity that bordered on disturbing. _I guess the King’s personal life **would** be of interest_.

He turned back to Zevran. “Yes, I’m sorry. I’m holding you all here when I’m sure you’re tired. I’ll be in my rooms. When you’re ready just knock on my door.” He reluctantly let go of Zevran’s hand and watched him climb the stairs, happier than he’d been in weeks.

Alistair jumped when Eamon spoke near his ear. “That seemed to go well.” He clapped Alistair on the shoulder. “I believe things will work out. I hope that they do.” Alistair nodded and smiled, quickly making his way to his rooms to wait for Zevran.

 

XXX

 

There was a soft knock on his door and Alistair’s heart started racing. _This is it_. He took a breath and forced himself to walk to the door instead of dashing across the room like he wanted. He swung the door open and stood stunned at the sight that greeted him. Zevran leaned against the doorframe, white linen shirt tight against his torso, billowy sleeves caught close at his wrists. The hem was tucked neatly into tight brown leather pants that hugged every muscular curve of his thighs. Soft leather boots that clung to his trim calves completed the outfit. Alistair took him all in, and knew he was staring. He forced his jaw to clench so that he was no longer gaping, but that was the best he could do. “Are you going to invite me in, _hermoso_? Or shall I stand here in the hall a while longer?”

Alistair backed up a few paces, tripping over his own feet in the process, and barely catching his balance. It brought him out of his daydream. “Sorry! Yes! Come in, please.” Alistair closed the door behind him and turned, getting an eyeful of Zevran’s leather clad ass. He whispered, “Maker, help me.”

Zevran set something down on the desk and turned around, leaning his hips against the edge and crossing his ankles. Alistair followed the upward line of his sculpted legs, his gaze settling on Zevran’s obvious arousal. Alistair swallowed audibly and fought to keep his feet. “Sweet Andraste, Zevran. I thought you were trying to kill me with your letters! Surely those pants are a deadly weapon.”

Zevran threw his head back and laughed. “Oh Alistair, I have missed you.”

Alistair grinned, dazed. “I’ve missed you too.”

Zevran hopped onto the desk, his palms behind him, his legs spread suggestively. “Is that so? Then why are you all the way over there when I am over here?”

In a heartbeat, Alistair was across the room pressing Zevran against his chest, mouths locked in a searing kiss. Nimble fingers locked into his hair, pulling him closer. Zevran purred into his mouth and Alistair moaned, the enthusiastic response fueling his need for more. He grabbed Zevran’s ass, hoisting him off the desk and turned, taking the vacated seat and pressing him closer.

Zevran pulled back, smiling, slowly grinding his hips against Alistair. “ _Now_ I believe that you missed me, _querido_.”

Alistair gasped and closed his eyes. “I thought about you every day.”

“Did you think about this? About our bodies pleasuring each other?” Zevran leaned closer, his lips brushing against Alistair’s ear. “Did you think about my mouth, sweet Alistair?”

He groaned softly and leaned towards Zevran, breath hoarse with need. “Yes. I read your letters every night. I… I thought about it often.” He was achingly hard and the friction from Zevran’s movements had him rocketing towards the edge. “Zev, you’re gonna make me…” He felt the blush but didn’t care. “You’re gonna make me come.”

That purr sounded in his ear again. “Shall I stop, _hermoso_?” Zevran snaked his hips against him.

Alistair gasped then groaned. “No. P… please! Maker! You feel good. Please d… don’t stop.” He wanted it to last but knew that he couldn’t. He’d thought about this too often, and now Zevran was here, in his lap, kissing him and touching him, making him crazy with need.

Zevran chuckled and picked up his pace, rolling his hips and rocking against him. Alistair moaned as teeth sunk into the side of his neck, and gasped for breath, pressing his hips up against Zevran’s. He watched Zevran writhing in his lap, and felt the tightening of his body as he neared his release. The ache became overwhelming and his body started to shake. He wrapped himself around Zevran, holding on tightly. “Zevran! Maker! Zev!” He felt the clench of his abdominals and shuddered though his orgasm, face buried in Zevran’s neck, hips thrusting against him.

He quietly moaned though the aftershocks, gently kissing Zevran’s neck and nuzzling behind his ear. Strong fingers gently rubbed circles into his scalp and he finally registered that words were being spoken. “Mmmmm. What?”

Zevran’s voice was soft and low against his hair. “Are you alright?”

Alistair smiled lazily, gently kissing along his jaw. “Yes.” He nipped at the tender skin. “More than alright.” He didn’t care about the mess. He didn’t care about much just then, except the gorgeous elf in his arms and the utterly content feeling throughout his body. He gently bit the fleshy muscle along the column of his neck. “What about you, darling? Can I help you?”

Zevran hummed happily. “Alistair, I was not expecting you to be quite this relaxed.”

He continued to nibble at Zevran’s throat. “I just had the best orgasm of my life. I really don’t have the energy to be anything but relaxed.” Zevran’s laugh was low and wicked and made Alistair smile. “I love your laugh. It’s so full of lust and mischief and it makes me smile. It’s also incredibly sexy.”

“Alistair, who would have thought that one little orgasm could give you such poise and confidence.” He was sure Zevran was teasing him but he didn’t care. “We will have to keep this in mind prior to official functions.”

He wiggled playfully and Alistair winced but chuckled. “Oh! Stop! Not fair.” He grabbed Zevran’s hips to still his movements, and gazed into his soft amber eyes. “Are you sure I can’t do anything for you?”

Zevran kissed him quickly and reluctantly slid from his lap. “Perhaps later. I am content to have this moment be for you. Why don’t you go clean up? Then you can open your present.”

Alistair got very excited. “Presents! I have something for you too.” He turned to look at the beautiful inlayed wooden box. He reached for it, but Zevran snatched it away.

“Clean yourself, or you will be infinitely sorry when you cannot peel your clothes off without pain.” He waved Alistair towards the bedroom. “Go.”

Alistair grinned, “Seems like you know something about that.” Zevran rolled his eyes and Alistair pushed himself off the desk stealing a kiss as he walked by. Once in the bedroom, he divested himself of his soiled clothes, poured water into the basin and grabbed a cloth, washing quickly. He pulled out a new set of smalls and pants, dressed, and walked back to the wardrobe. He reached for the neatly wrapped bundle hidden in the bottom, and heading back into the other room.

Zevran was looking at his statuettes, and Alistair smiled. “The golem goes nicely with the collection. I’m glad you were with me with I bought it.”

“Well, technically _I_ bought it since all of your coin was stolen.”

Alistair laughed. “Well, if you hadn’t taught that street urchin to pick pockets with _my_ money, then I could have purchased the golem myself.” He set his bundle on the desk and gathered Zevran into his arms, and kissed him softly. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Zevran looked utterly confused.

“For everything. For the wonderful day in the market, for buying me the golem, for whatever that is on the desk… for earlier, on the desk.” He kissed him again, trying to convey everything he was feeling, and knowing he probably failed.

Zevran gasped softly and slowly pulled back, looking a bit unsure but happy. “You are welcome, querido.” He peered over his shoulder at the objects on the desk. “I see there is something new. Is it for me?”

Alistair released him with a laugh. “Yes it is. Betrothal gift, you know. Would you like to open yours first?”

Zevran shook his head. “No. You first.” Alistair didn’t need to be encouraged. He pulled the box towards him, smiling at Zevran, and running his hands over the beautiful inlay. Zevran moved closer. “I saw this in the Antiva City market and thought of you immediately.”

Alistair gently opened the lid and peered at the contents. Speechless, he gently lifted out a Warden Commander, and one Hurlock, perfectly replicated in miniature form. _He bought me an entire set of Grey Warden and Darkspawn figurines._ He looked at Zevran, grinned and whispered, “They’re beautiful. Thank you.” He looked behind him. “I’ll have to find room for them on the shelf.” He carefully put the figures back in the box and stood, pulling Zevran against him. “You couldn’t have bought me a more perfect gift. Thank you, truly.” He kissed his hair and let him go, turning him to face the desk and his own gift.

Zevran gave him a wry smile, and pulled the bundle across the desk. He quickly unknotted the velvet cord and unwrapped the cloth, revealing a set of polished steel bracers, with intricate carvings of Mabari Warhounds on the sides. “Alistair, these are exquisite.”

“Be careful. But turn them over.” Zevran gave him a quizzical look but cautiously peered at the bottom of the bracers. Alistair grinned at Zevran’s small gasp of surprise. “I had Wade craft them specifically for you. The blades slide in and out soundlessly at the flex of your wrist.” Zevran stared at them, not saying a thing and Alistair began to worry. “Don’t you like them?”

Zevran placed them on the desk and stood, facing him, scanning his face. “Alistair.” He looked at the bracers and then back at him. “I do not understand. Once I am your husband, will I find use for those?”

“Oh! Well, if you mean will there be attempts on your life, or mine, then, maybe? But hopefully not frequently!”

“No. That is good to know, but not what I meant.” He watched as Zevran stared at the bracers, trying to form the proper question.

As understanding dawned, Alistair blushed and nodded. “I did want to talk to you about that. You know, it’s probably not appropriate for you to remain a Crow after we’re married. You will be a Prince of Ferelden and that might be seen as a conflict of interest.”

Zevran nodded, running a finger over the fine metalwork. “Naturally, I assumed that this would be expected. But then why give me these?”

Alistair slipped his arms around Zevran’s waist and buried his nose in his golden locks. “I was hoping that you might start something similar here, perhaps on a smaller scale. You know, a specially trained group of rogues, maybe for sensitive situations.”

Zevran startled. “You are suggesting that I help you create a team of Ferelden Crows?”

“Well, perhaps a modified version? It should probably start with a less violent indoctrination. And only consist of adults. No purchasing of children involved. And you wouldn’t be _helping_ me. This would be all yours. As King I would ultimately be directing where the team was used, but you would pick the candidates and be responsible for the training. And if you want, lead the team on missions.” Zevran scanned his face, hesitantly. “Really. I mean it, Zev. Action is so much a part of who you are. If I were to ask you to change, to expect you to stop… That would be cruel. And you would grow to hate your situation here, and me.” He squeezed Zevran tightly. “And I couldn’t bear that.”

Zevran shook his head, “You have given me two wonderful gifts today, _querido_. And I am grateful for both. Thank you. I will be glad to help you with this.”

Alistair ran his hands along Zevran’s arms, giving him a stern look. “That doesn’t mean I want you to behave recklessly. I need you to come back in one piece, more or less.”

Zevran chuckled and stepped away, picking up the bracers and putting them on, flicking the blades in and out of their hidden sheaths. “This is exceptional craftsmanship. Wade truly would be invaluable to the Crows, Alistair.”

“He is already invaluable to Ferelden. And now he can equip our elite force with whatever you can dream up.” Alistair turned him so they were facing each other again. “Wade stays in Ferelden, Zev. There are certain things I don’t share well.” There was humor in his voice but he was deadly serious.

Zevran set the bracers on the desk and cocked an eyebrow at him. “And what else don’t you share well?”

_Fiancés that I find I care deeply about._ But he didn’t say that out loud. He blushed and looked out the window. “Maybe ask me again some other time.” He smiled and took Zevran’s hand. “Anyway, thank you for my gifts.” He leaned in and kissed him. “All of them.” He felt the blush heating his cheeks. “Maybe later I can reciprocate. But for now, perhaps you’ll let me show you the gardens. They’re magnificent.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is a long chapter that had to be cajoled into existence. So, sorry for the delay! With this posting I'm caught up with what I have to post, so the next two chapters may take longer than one or two days to appear since they still need to be written! Please excuse any errors in the Spanish. It's been forever since I studied it and you know how Google translate is just 'the best' for accuracy. If you see a glaring error let me know and I'll update ASAP.
> 
> With this chapter we earn our E, so be warned. ;) 
> 
> And as always, thank you for reading! And for commenting, which energizes me to keep writing!

 

Alistair moved the Hurlocks into position behind the Genlocks, and in front of the Ogres. The Grey Wardens were situated at the head of the Ferelden forces. Alistair stared at the placement as if it would give him some insight. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up to see Zevran leaning against the doorframe. “There you are, _querido_. I was looking for you everywhere.” He moved to stand beside Alistair, looking around the room. “I did not even know you had a library.”

Alistair smiled fondly at him. “Most of the guests don’t either, so I get some peace here.”

Zevran peering at the table. “What are you doing?”

“Distracting myself. I’m a bit nervous about tonight. I don’t normally do well at fancy functions. I’m sure I’ll make an ass of myself somehow.” He fiddled with an Ogre. “I did decently at the last one though. Even _with_ someone trying to kill me.” He blushed and smiled a bit. “That was mostly due to this very dashing Prince who saved me.”

“Ah. From the blush on your face, it would seem that you are quite taken with this Prince. Should I be jealous?” Zevran leaned his hip against the table, looking at the figurines.

“He _is_ incredibly handsome.” He took a deep breath. _This flirting isn’t **so** difficult. And it’s kind of fun._ He pushed off the table, taking Zevran into a light embrace. “And _funny_. He _is_ a little full of himself, but I guess that’s not without cause. You know, now that I think about it, you might have reason to be concerned.”

Zevran slid a hand under Alistair’s shirt and the other around his neck, pulling him lower. “Let me see if I can persuade you to forget about this silly Prince.”

The kiss started out playful and light but Zevran quickly turned things steamy, nipping at Alistair’s lower lip and sliding his fingers into the back of his waistband. Alistair moaned, pulling him tightly against his hips, shivering as Zevran’s hand wandered lower along his bare skin. “I like having your hands on me. Zev…”

Zevran took a breath and sighed, and placed both hands on Alistair’s hips. “I think we should continue this later. Some of your guests might object to finding the King of Ferelden and his betrothed in a compromising position in the Library.”

Alistair refused to let him go. “I don’t care.” He nuzzled into his neck. “They can mind their own business.”

Zevran laughed and backed away. “Alistair! I’m so impressed. You grow bolder by the day!” He squeezed his hand. “Why don’t you show me what you are doing here.” He motioned to the table.

Alistair straightened and exhaled, suddenly serious. “I keep trying to see what I missed. What I could have done differently.”

Zevran looked puzzled and walked around the table, analyzing the formations. “Alistair. Is this Ostagar?”

He stared at the figures. “Cailan was here.” He pointed at the front of the Grey Wardens. “He wouldn’t stay back with Loghain, even though Duncan tried to make him.” His voice was reverently soft. “He wanted to show his men that he wasn’t afraid, and they shouldn’t be either.” Alistair clenched his jaw. “I should have been with him. I could’ve protected him.”

Zevran placed a hand on his arm, turning his attention from the battle. “ _Querido_ , the only thing that would have changed, is you would also be dead. And that is not anything that I want to think about." Zevran slipped his arms around Alistair’s waist and leaned against him. “Let us take a walk. _Sí_? I hear the kennels have a new litter of Mabari pups. Perhaps you would like to see them?”

Alistair looked back at the table and gave himself a mental shake, trying to clear out the ghosts. He smiled at Zevran and shrugged. “I do love puppies. I’ve always wanted my own Mabari.”

Zevran nodded. “I was shocked to learn that you do not already have one. I thought it must be a law that the King of Ferelden should have his own Mabari. Is this not the case?” He winked at Alistair and they both grinned. “Come. Let us go see the pups. No one can be sad around puppies.” Zevran slipped his hand into Alistair’s and gently tugged.

Alistair took one last look at the darkspawn bearing down on the Grey Wardens and then turned to Zevran. “You better watch out, or people will think you are being unduly influenced by me.”

Zevran waggled his eyebrows at him. “You can _influence_ me any time you want, Alistair.” He walked him towards the door. “Perhaps later when we are alone, I will let you _influence_ me several times.”

Alistair blushed but murmured, “It would be my pleasure.”

Zevran threw back his head and laughed heartily. “That’s the spirit!” Alistair let Zevran lead him towards the kennels, the Battle at Ostagar forgotten for now.

 

XXX

 

He was anxious, but in a good way. The kind of anxious usually accompanied by eager anticipation. He smoothed the front of his coat and fidgeted with the buttons before taking another quick sip of the brandy he’d poured to help with his nerves. His anxiety had very little to do with the Engagement Ball and everything to do with Zevran’s whispered promises of time alone later.

There was a knock on the door, startling him out of his thoughts. “Come in.” Zevran poked his head around the door, and Alistair felt his heart gallop in his chest. “Hello.”

Zevran closed the door softly behind him. “Alistair, you look quite dashing in your suit of grey and blue. Warden colors suit you.” Zevran walked across the room to join him, casually running his hand along Alistair’s jacket, and coming to rest just below his waist.

Alistair shivered at his touch, and pulled him closer. “You look amazing. Very handsome and dangerous.” The black velvet of Zevran’s suit clung to every curve like a second skin, accentuating his muscular chest and thighs. The color played up his menacing Crow image. Alistair nipped at his ear and murmured, “Maker, Zev, how am I going to keep my hands to myself?” He sat on the edge of desk and pulled Zevran against him, nibbling his jaw and throat. “You look good. Better than good.” He tentatively rolled his hips against him, quietly gasping at how amazing it felt.

Zevran grinned and tilted his head back, giving Alistair better access to his neck. “Who says you must keep your hands to yourself, _querido_? I would _never_ say that.”

His heart was racing at his own boldness. “You _did_ make me some promises in your letters, and I’m still waiting for you to make good on them.” He bit Zevran’s lower lip, closing his eyes as Zevran slid his fingers into his hair.

Warm breath tickled his ear. “Do you think about that, _querido_? I do.” Zevran bit Alistair’s jaw teasingly, rolling his hips in response. Alistair devoured Zevran’s lips and was about to suggest that they skip the ball altogether when there was a knock on the door.

“Ignore it.” Alistair whispered against his lips.

Zevran’s chuckle was low and rough. “Do you really think that Eamon would allow that?” Alistair smiled at how distracted Zevran sounded. There was a second knock at the door. “See?”

Alistair huffed out a frustrated sigh. “Yes?” His tone was sharper than he intended. The door swung in and Zevran tried to take a step back but Alistair held him in place. These were his rooms and they weren’t doing anything wrong.

Eamon poked his head in and cleared his throat, slight smile on his lips as he took in the scene. “Excuse me Alistair. Prince Zevran. You both are needed downstairs. Please.” He nodded to both and left, closing the door behind him.

Alistair felt the heat on his cheeks and sighed, resting his head against Zevran’s shoulder. “I just want some time alone with you without anyone interrupting. Is that too much to ask?”

Zevran chuckled and kissed his forehead. “Come, Alistair. The sooner we make our appearance the sooner we can leave. Yes?”

Alistair reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, pouting slightly. Zevran pressed against him, gently pulling him in for a soft kiss. “I promise to make it up to you later.”

Alistair smiled. “And how will you do that?”

“I believe we can use our imaginations and come up with some ideas together.” Zevran stepped back and pulled him towards the door.

Alistair groaned but shuffled towards the door. “Now I’m going to be thinking about that and nothing else. This party is going to take forever.”

They descended the stairs, hand in hand, past tittering guests and glaring dignitaries. It appeared as though every major country had sent representatives, and Alistair wondered if they’d have time to meet even half of them, let alone find a way to leave early.

They approached the doors that led into the ballroom and Alistair took a steadying breath. He felt Zevran squeeze his hand as the doors swung in and they moved forward as the Herald announced their arrival. “My Lords and Ladies, His Royal Highness, King Alistair Theirin and Prince Zevran Arainai, of Antiva.”

The guests turned to look at them as they stood at the top of the stairs. Alistair did his best not to make eye contact. He smiled, quietly mumbling to Zevran, “Can this be over now?”

They moved down the steps, and Zevran murmured, “Alistair. All of these people have some story that is scandalous or embarrassing. Every one. So, no need to be nervous. For example, do you see that lovely blond woman in the emerald dress? That is Lady Elegant of Kirkwall. She is actually quite a skilled herbalist and potions maker, and before she married her noble husband she worked with smugglers and mercenaries in the slums of Kirkwall. Some say she still does.”

They made it to the bottom of the stairs, but now had to wade through the crowd of foreign dignitaries who all held varying opinions about his suitability to rule or his choice of husband. Several of them were not above mentioning it out loud. There were hundreds of eyes on him, watching to see if he made a mistake. Alistair felt the pressure rising, sure he saw looks of disdain. He gripped Zevran’s hand tightly.

Then Zevran’s smooth, calming voice was in his ear. “Do you see that attractive gentleman in the gold suite? That is Lord Cyril de Montfort. He has quite a promising diplomatic career in Orlais. For what that is worth. There are no known scandals surrounding him, but that, in and of itself, is disturbing. I never trust anyone who has no visible faults or social missteps to navigate.

They reached the dais and the parade of nobility began. Alistair smiled and shook hands and mumbled ‘thank yous’ for what seemed like days, dancing with various aristocrats and barely seeing Zevran at all. Eamon had them mingling with everyone except each other. His head throbbed and his face ached from smiling and all he wanted was a brief moment of silence. He excused himself, and slipped through a side door into a softly lit anteroom. He sunk into an overstuffed settee, quickly closed his eyes and sighed at the glorious silence.

It felt like only moments later when he heard talking outside the room. The accent was definitely Orlesian and that made his head hurt worse. “… childish. ‘E waaz actually playing wiz zee dolls in zee library. I saw ‘eem myself. Eet waaz _ridicule_. A grown man, playing wiz toys.” A loud crash jolted Alistair upright and he moved quickly towards the doors. He was just about to pull them open when he heard Zevran’s distinctive voice, low and menacing just on the other side.

“Good evening.” There was a high pitched squeak and another thud on the door. “I would like to take this moment to indulge in a brief chat with you. You know who I am, _sí_?” There was another thud followed by a high pitched whimper. “Good. I must respectfully request that you do not insult my future husband. You see, as his betrothed, I am motivated to defend his honor, since he is a good man and not deserving of your scorn.” His tone was casual and friendly. “Being a _Crow_ , well, I am bound to defend the honor of our new ally. Crows do not participate in duels. We enjoy the more subtle art of assassination. So, if I hear you insult my husband-to-be again, I will find you while you sleep, and I will slit your throat. Do you understand?”

“ _Oui_ monsieur!” Alistair heard rushing feet and swishing fabric and then Zevran quietly slipped into the room. They stared at each other. “Zevran, are you alright?”

“Of Course, _querido_.”

Alistair gestured towards the hall. “You didn’t need to, you know. It won’t make any difference.”

“I will always defend you, Alistair. You are worth defending.”

Alistair moved forward quickly and cupped Zevran’s face in his hands, kissing him with a fierce passion. He was strung as tight as a bow, desperate to be away from the ball and alone with him. Breathlessly he murmured, “Surely we’ve spent enough time smiling and chit-chatting. It’s after midnight, for Maker’s sake.”

“Alistair, if we disappear, won’t Eamon look for us?”

Alistair was frustrated and tired, and screwed up his courage, taking Zevran by the hand and meeting his eyes earnestly. “I don’t care. I’m tired of these people. I cannot possibly shake one more hand or dance with one more stranger. I want some time alone with you.” Before he could lose his nerve, Alistair moved to the back of the room, leading him out onto the veranda and down the steps into the gardens.

“Alistair, where are we going?”

He didn’t say anything, sure if he opened his mouth he’d mess something up. He turned to the right, moving down a small path lined with a few benches and several lanterns to light the way. The lane dead-ended in a wall of ivy.

Zevran looked around and grinned. “This isn’t exactly private, _querido_. And while _I_ am more than fine with that, Eamon might object if we cause a scandal in the garden.” Alistair stopped at the ivy wall and unhooked a lantern, glancing around for anyone near. He took Zevran’s hand again, and pulled him close as he stepped backwards. “Querido, you are going to…” Alistair felt the ivy give and he slipped into a secluded alcove, pulling Zevran after him. Alistair hung the lantern on a hook, and Zevran chuckled, looking around their surroundings. “I very much approve.”

“I found this when I first got back to Denerim. I used to walk the garden to clear my head, or when I just wanted to be alone to think.” He let his hand slip down Zevran’s back, resting low on his hip. His pulse was racing. _Get the words out. Just say it_. “This seemed like a good place. You know… I thought… I mean, I’d hoped…”

Zevran’s hands caressed his chest, toying with the clasp that held his jacket closed and giving him a teasing look. “Alistair, do you want something?” Alistair leaned against him and nodded, lips pressed against his soft, golden hair. “What is it you want, _querido_?”

Now that he had the opportunity to act, Alistair became tongue tied again. “I want… I mean, we talked about… in the letters. And I’d hoped…” He leaned their foreheads together and closed his eyes, visualizing the words, and then softly spoke them. “I want to kiss you. And touch you. I want to make you feel the way you make me feel. I… I want to learn what you like. I want to… make you feel good.”

He felt Zevran’s hands glide across his chest. “ _Querido_. I like making _you_ feel good.”

Alistair frowned. “But, I want… you’ve already done… _things_ for me.” He plowed on, afraid that if he stopped he’d never get the words out. “And you never let me do those things for you, and I _want_ to. If you like those things, I mean. But if you like something else, then I could do that. Whatever _that_ is.” He dragged his hands through his hair. “Maker, I’m really bad at this.” Zevran was staring at him with an odd look on his face. “I’m sorry. I’ve said something wrong, haven’t I?”

“No, no! You just surprise me. I forget that you say things you actually mean.”

Alistair shook his head, baffled. “Of _course_ I mean them. I want you to be happy here.” He fidgeted. “Happy with _me_.” Then a thought occurred to him. _Maybe Zevran had said things in the letters that he didn’t mean. Maybe he was just teasing._ Alistair sighed dejectedly and stared at the floor. “I’m sorry. I thought… I mean, you seemed like you,” He stopped and cleared his throat. “like you liked me. Maybe a bit more than like. Your letters, and the kissing… and things… I’d hoped…” Alistair’s heart dropped. He quickly turned and headed for the exit.

Zevran’s hand shot out and pulled him back. “Alistair.” Alistair clenched his jaw and balled his hands into fists, caught between wanting the humiliation to end, and just _wanting_. “Alistair, I _do_ like you.” He heard Zevran sigh. “It is more than just like.” Alistair was surprised to hear the timidity in his voice. “ _Querido_ , you are not the only one who is new to this situation. My skills in the bedroom are unrivaled. It is an area I know a lot about.” He pulled gently at Alistair’s wrist. “But I have only ever experienced casual relationships. The sex was transactional. There was nothing more significant there.” There was a pleading tone to his voice. “I… I do not want that to be how we are together. But I am unsure how accomplish that.”

Alistair turned to look at him, a small spark of hope growing. “I don’t want things to be like that either. But Zev, you know I don’t really know what I’m doing.” He scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “I feel like I’m bumbling around like an adolescent, and _that’s_ such a confidence booster.” He brought Zevran’s hand to his lips. “Will you help me? We can figure this out together.”

He waited as Zevran worked things out in his mind, finally seeming to come to a decision. Their eyes met and Zevran reached out to unclasp Alistair’s jacket, pushing it off his shoulders and onto the ground before unbuttoning his own and tossing it aside. He shivered at his light touch, Zevran’s warm hands sliding along the cool silk of his shirt, stroking the muscles of his chest. His smooth Antivan accent was like a sensual caress. “I do think about you, often. How your strong hands would feel on my body, how exciting your touch would be.” Alistair gripped Zevran’s hips and pulled him close, bending down to capture his lips in a searing kiss, tongue caressing tongue. He pulled back, needing to make the request he’d been thinking about for weeks. “I… Zev. Please. Teach me.”

He moaned as Zevran nibbled at his lower lip, gently biting along his jaw. Zevran slid one of Alistair’s hands from his hip, guiding it lower to press against the soft velvet cloth covering his half hard cock. Slowly, together, they stroked him, and he felt Zevran growing harder under his hand. “Do you feel how you excite me, _querido_? How much ache for your touch?” His voice was rough and breathy. Alistair wrapped an arm around his waist, trembling as he worked at the opening of Zevran’s pants, slipping his hand inside, finally touching him with nothing in the way. The first caress, skin to skin, had them both gasping. “ _Sí, querido_. Just like that. Light, gentle.” Alistair moaned quietly and leaned against him, grasping at his waist, and swaying slightly. Zevran pulled them toward the stone bench along the wall.

Alistair leaned Zevran against the wall, as he worked his pants completely open, pushing them over his slender hips, freeing his cock. He forced himself to hold Zevran’s gaze, refusing to give in to nerves and shyness now. “You’re beautiful.” Alistair stroked him firmly, confidence growing. _I’ve done this to myself many times._ He blushed at the thought but found it arousing too. Zevran moaned and gripped his hand, slowing the rhythm and moving with him. “No need to rush, _querido_. It feels so good. I want it to last.”

Zevran sank down onto the stone bench, his back against the wall, eyes half lidded. “ _Me gusta así_. I like it like that.” Alistair sat next to him, watching, unable and unwilling to look away from his pale fist sliding along Zevran’s beautiful, hard cock. The steady roll of Zevran’s hips and his frequent moans made Alistair brave, and he added a small twist at the upstroke before sliding his fist back down to the base. Zevran gasped and closed his eyes, mouth going slack.

Alistair licked his lips, contemplating the bead of liquid now pooling at the tip of Zevran’s cock. He wanted to taste it. He wanted to taste _him_. Before he lost his nerve he bent over, tongue darting out to lick away the droplet. Zevran moaned and gripped the back of Alistair’s head, fingers wrapping into his hair. He rolled his tongue along the roof of his mouth, considering the taste of him, finding it not unpleasant. “Alistair.” Zevran’s voice was low and gravely, almost feral. Alistair moaned, aroused by the knowledge that he’d made him sound like that. He wanted more of it, more of hearing that need in Zevran’s voice.

“Tell me what to do.” He was surprised at the authoritative tone in his voice, even at a quiet murmur.

Zevran’s gaze snapped up, eyes wide with lust, and Alistair felt a rush of power. Zevran spread his legs, making room for him. Alistair dropped to his knees and placed his hands on Zevran’s thighs. In a voice shaking with desire, Zevran murmured, “Start slowly. Just use your tongue, explore.”

Alistair gripped the base of Zevran’s cock and flicked his tongue at the tip. He could feel Zevran watching as he licked the length of him. He heard his shuddering exhalation of breath, felt his fingers knotting into his hair. Alistair repeated the movement, gaining confidence as Zevran’s cock twitched against his tongue. Encouraged, Alistair slowly lowered his mouth over the tip, holding him gently between his lips, and licking at the precum. Zevran groaned and Alistair hollowed his cheeks, sucking at the skin. His teeth scrapped against him, making Zevran jerk back and gasp before he huffed out a laugh. “No teeth, Alistair. This is not a good place to bite.”

Alistair smiled sheepishly, blushing profusely, and nodded. “Sorry.”

Zevran caressed his cheek. “No need to apologize, _querido_. Your mouth feels nice.”

Alistair didn’t want ‘nice’. He wanted to drive Zevran crazy with lust. He wanted to make him come. He stroked Zevran a few times then once again wrapped his lips around the tip, moving his mouth along with the slide of his fist, licking him and slicking the way for his hand. He set a steady rhythm and was rewarded with soft moans as Zevran’s hips rocked into his mouth. “Alistair… _querido, to boca… te sientes... chúpame_.”

Zevran gripped his hair and Alistair moaned around his cock, dropping one hand to the closures on his own pants, working them open, taking himself in hand and sliding his fist along his aching shaft. “Alistair.” Zevran’s voice was like a silky caress. Alistair was aroused beyond caring and came fast and hard, spilling over his hand, hips jerking as his body found release.

Zevran moaned and Alistair looked up at him through his lashes, mouth still gliding along his cock. “ _Tan caliente! Alistair, me vengo… me vengo!_ ” Zevran pushed at his shoulder, moving him away. Alistair released him with a popping noise, continuing to stroked him as his body convulsed through his orgasm, warm come spilling over Alistair’s hand. Zevran slumped back against the stone wall, eyes shut, mouth relaxed, breath coming in gasps.

Alistair watched him, waiting for a reaction, unsure what to say. Zevran slowly opened his eyes and looked at him. It was like a bolt of lightning struck him in the chest. And Alistair knew. There was no doubt. _I love you_. He repeated it in his mind, feeling the rightness of it. Amazingly, he wasn’t embarrassed or anxious about it. But he wasn’t quite ready to say it out loud. Zevran smiled at him softly, and caressed his cheek. “ _Eres muy precioso para mí, querido._ ”

He didn’t understand what was said, but Alistair wanted Zevran to look at him just like that for the rest of his life. Like he was special. Alistair smiled back and pulled a linen handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his hand, and then using it to gently clean Zevran. They said very little as they re-dressed, but Alistair never felt nervous, completely reassured by the constant small touches and smiles from Zevran. When they were presentable again, Alistair gathered him into his arms and kissed him softly. “Thank you.” He nuzzled into his hair. There was more that he wanted to say, but he didn’t quite know how to phrase it without bollixing it up. So he left it at that.

Zevran reached up and caressed his face. “Alistair, me confundes. Me haces sentir tales cosas, y no se que hacer con ellas... Pero creo que es algo bueno. _"_

Alistair pressed Zevran’s hand to his cheek, then kissed his palm, and wove their fingers together. He held the ivy aside and let Zevran slip back through to the garden path, following him out. He didn’t understand any of what Zevran had said, but the way he looked at him, and the tone of his voice sent a heady warmth through him. He smiled, feeling lighter than he had in ages. Eamon would be upset that they’d disappeared, but even that prospect held no fear for him. They slowly strolled back towards the ballroom and the roomful of foppish bootlickers and scheming social climbers who waited to gossip and fawn. Not even the prospect of that could ruin his mood. Let them conspire as they would. He was the King of Ferelden, and he was going to marry the man he loved.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a short chapter here, but I hope you like it!!

 

“Alistair, please stop fidgeting.” Eamon handed him a glass of water and steered him towards a chair.

“What if he changed his mind? What if he doesn’t show up?” Alistair felt the panic rising. He took a sip of water and made a face, setting the glass on the table and jumping up to pace the room again.

“Alistair, I just left him. He’s across the hall dressing. You will see him in a few minutes so please try to relax.”

_Minutes. In a few minutes I’m going to marry the man I love, who has only professed to more than liking me. Is that enough to make this work? Will he end up hating me?_

His thoughts were interrupted as the door opened and Teagan leaned in. “They’re ready.” His eyes fell on Alistair and he smiled. “Alistair, you look quite dashing. The two of you will make a handsome couple.”

Alistair looked at himself in the mirror. His crème colored coat and pants were accented by touches of gold threading to match the plain gold circlet around his brow. “I guess I’m ready, too.” His mind was a whirlwind of eagerness and anxiety, hope and fear. He followed Teagan into the main hall and tripped when he saw the mass of people in attendance. _How could I have forgotten that so many people would be here?_ His mouth went try and he felt dizzy. Eamon put a steadying hand on his arm, giving it a small squeeze, and guided him towards the stairs of the dais where the ceremony would be performed.

His stomach was doing little flips and he was just starting to sweat when the opposite door opened and Zevran entered with members of his delegation. Alistair’s breath caught at Zevran’s beauty. His golden hair was loose and flowing past his shoulders, beautifully contrasted against the dark navy of his form fitting suit. Their eyes met and Zevran gave him a brilliant smile. Alistair’s heart fluttered in his chest, an answering smile coming easily. His nerves settled, and when Zevran climbed the stairs to stand next to him, he took his hand and kissed it warmly, refusing to let it go even when the Grand Cleric gave him her sternest look. He grinned at her and whispered, “We’re ready. Go ahead.” Zevran laughed softly and squeezed his hand.

She raised her hands and faced the assembled guests. “Marriage. Marriage is what brings us together today. Marriage, that blessed arrangement, that dream within a dream. Today we bring together two houses from two nations, and we create a powerful union. But this role is not all we are. A joining of convenience allows our world to function. But passion, real love, can still be found. Our lady blesses those who are certain of purpose.”

Alistair tried to pay attention to what she was saying, but he had never particularly cared for the spectacle that was a Chantry ceremony. Alistair would have preferred a small ceremony with less fuss. This production was a purely political affair, mostly undertaken for the Antivan dignitaries, and Alistair felt free to let his mind wander. He only had one thing that he needed to say. He would be asked if he willingly agreed to the marriage. _I hadn’t at first, but I wholeheartedly agree to it now._ Then she would ask the same of Zevran. Zevran had told him that he’d agreed to the marriage. _What if he was forced into this? Or maybe he’s changed his mind! I never asked him if he wanted to marry me. I just assumed! Oh, Maker, what if he isn’t OK with this?_ Alistair looked at Zevran, panic gripping his insides.

He turned to the Grand Cleric, interrupting her mid-sentence. “Excuse us for just one minute.” He dragged Zevran the side of the long dais. She sputtered, mouth gaping, while the guests began murmuring and Eamon looked like he was about to have a stroke.

Zevran, for his part, looked baffled but amused. “ _Querido_ , perhaps this is not the best time for a chat.”

Before he could say anything further Alistair spoke. “Um… I _know_ we’re kind of in the middle of things, and, well, now might be a bit late to worry about this.” Alistair got down on one knee and held Zevran’s hands. “Zev…” There was a collective _oohing_ from the guests, and Alistair blushed crimson, but continued. “Zev, when we first met I thought you were really great.” _Don’t pour on the charm too much, Theirin. He might faint._ He tried to look Zevran in the eye but nerves had his gaze darting everywhere. “I mean, we hadn’t met before, and I was worried you were going to be a jerk.” Quiet laughter rolled through the assembly.

“But then you were a lot of fun, and you saved my life, and well, over the weeks I grew to like you.” Alistair frowned. “And then you went back to Antiva, and I missed you _so_ much. And… and the letters…” He felt his cheeks burning and his throat felt tight and he squeezed Zevran’s hands. The returned pressure helped him to continue. “When you came back we spent more time together, and you were funny, and kind to everyone, and helped Gertie in the kitchen, and showed that boy how to pick pockets…” Gasps and chuckles erupted from the nobles. “And anyway, although I never expected it, or even dared hope…” He took a deep breath. “I came to love you.” The _aaahs_ grew louder. “And I very much want to marry you because, well, you’re _you_. But I never asked you what you wanted. So, before we go any further I’d like to ask. Zevran, will you marry me?”

He finally met his gaze and breathed for the first time in what seemed like forever. Zevran was looking at him with such fondness he knew he’d done the right thing. He smiled tentatively and Zevran squeezed his hands. “An assassin must learn to forget about sentiment. It is dangerous. You take your pleasure where you can, when life is good. To expect anything more would be reckless. I thought it would be the same between us. A marriage of convenience. At best, a pleasant diversion, and little more. And yet…” He paused.

Alistair gave him the time he needed to gather his thoughts, fighting back the hope that was threatening to burst through his chest. “I grew up amongst those who sold the illusion of love, and then I was trained to make my heart cold in favor of the kill. Everything I have been taught says what I feel is wrong. Yet I cannot help it.”

He felt like he was in a daze. _Everything I have been taught says what I feel is wrong. Yet I cannot help it._  Alistair thought his chest would burst with the glorious feeling thrumming through him. _He can't help it_.  Zevran brought Alistair’s hands to his lips and pressed a kiss against the knuckles. “Alistair, I would like to give you something.” He reached for his ear, and removed one of the gold hoop earrings that he always wore. “It is a token of my affection. Will you take it?”

Alistair gingerly took the earring from him. “Yes. I will take it. Gladly! Happily!” With shaking hands, he hooked it through his lobe.

“Then, yes, Alistair, I will marry you.”

A cheer went up from those gathered, and Alistair rose to his feet, flushed and smiling.

The Grand Cleric, who had allowed the disruption, cleared her throat, but smiled indulgently. “Your Highness, if we may continue?” Alistair looked sheepish and, slipped his hand into Zevran’s, returning to the center of the dais to stand in front of the guests. “Now where were we?” She raised her hands and addressed the room. “King Alistair and Prince Zevran have consented to enter together into holy wedlock, and have professed this before the Maker and this assembly. And inasmuch as they have pledged themselves to each other, I pronounce them married, in the eyes of the Maker.”

The crowd cheered heartily, and Alistair turned to face Zevran. “Um, I think this is the part where we kiss?” Zevran chuckled and grabbed Alistair by the front of his jacket, pulling him into a kiss. Alistair sighed happily and slid his arms around Zevran’s waist, drawing him closer, enjoying the feel of his husband’s lips against his. _My husband. **My** husband._ The kiss became possessive and passionate, full of lip biting and tangled tongues, and a jovial roar came from the gathering. Alistair blushed, having forgotten about everyone else.

The Grand Cleric cleared her throat again. “Gentleman.” Zevran let him go, smoothing out the wrinkles in the front of his jacket, steadying him when he staggered back slightly. “Now I think we should finish this ceremony so everyone can enjoy the feast. Your Highness, with your permission.” Alistair still felt a bit unsteady, but smiled and nodded.

The Grand Cleric stepped forward and raised her hands again, and the crowd grew silent. “My lords, ladies, and gentlemen, I present to you, King Alistair Theirin and The Prince Consort, Zevran Arainai.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, citations: The Grand Cleric's speech is a combination of the priest's speech from The Princess Bride and the Inquisitor's comments at the wedding in Orlais. Zevran's comments to Alistair at the wedding are what he says to the Warden in Origins, with some slight modifications.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter up but it was a real struggle! I kept rewriting, trying to get the voices just right. Wow is it difficult to write smut when one person is VERY experienced and the other isn't at all! Yikes! So thank you so very much to Careful_Mimicry and Little_Abyss for their incredible help with this story and especially this chapter!
> 
> So, folks, here is where we really earn our E rating! Check the updated tags, and if I missed any (because after a while updating smut tags is a bit repetitive) just let me know.

 

 

Alistair gave Zevran a pleading look from across the room. He was stuck in an exceedingly dull conversation with the Contessa du Somethingorother and he’d run out of things to say. “Err… ugh,” He mumbled a quick thanks to Andraste as Zevran appeared at his side, and smiled and took his hand. “My dear lady, I fear I must deprive you of my husband’s company. We are required elsewhere.” She dropped into a quick curtsy as Alistair gave her a perfunctory bow and let Zevran lead him away. “Thank you! I was almost out of cheese trivia.” Zevran led him through the room, ignoring anyone trying to engage them in conversation. “Where are we going?”

“As I said, _mi esposo_ , we are required elsewhere.” They quietly left through a rear door used by the staff, and cut through the kitchen.

“Where?” Zevran turned to him and winked, and Alistair blushed. “Oh!” His pulse increased and he gripped Zevran’s hand tightly, palms starting to sweat. The servants were having their own celebration, and as they passed through Gertie saw them and lifted her glass, throwing Zevran a saucy wink of her own. He blew her a kiss and they both laughed. Alistair gave him a pretend scowl. “I think I’m a bit jealous.”

He felt Zevran squeeze his hand. “There is no need, _querido_. You have my full attention.” His pulse leapt in his throat as Zevran lead him up the back stairs to his rooms. Our rooms, now. Zevran opened the door and stepped inside, and Alistair followed. He was oddly disappointed that everything appeared to be as it was before he’d left that afternoon. _Yet everything else is different, now_. Zevran tugged at his hand and headed for the bedroom. “Come, _querido_. I have a surprise for you.” Alistair followed him, more than a bit nervous now that the moment was here. _If we could just move right on past this awkward, embarrassing stage and get right to the steamy bits, I’d appreciate it._

He followed him into the bedroom where a bathtub full of steaming water was situated in front of the fire. It was so unexpected that it took all of his attention. “What is that?”

Zevran chuckled. “It is a bathtub, _mi esposo_. People often fill them with hot water and wash themselves in them. I had heard rumors of Ferelden barbarians, but assumed that you all at least bathed.”

Alistair blushed. “Yes. We bathe. I guess I meant, why is it here? Now?”

Zevran smiled softly at him and took both of his hands. “I thought you might like a moment to take a breath, relax, have a glass of wine.” He gestured to the small table next to the tub, where a bottle of Antivan Red was open next to two goblets.

_Perhaps that might be a good idea. Get things comfortable and moving in the right direction._ “Alright.” Zevran kissed his hands and let them go, heading for the door. Alistair was completely confused. “Wait. You aren’t staying?”

He caught a flash of _something_ on Zevran’s face, but couldn’t tell what. “I will return in a moment, _querido_. I thought you might like some time alone, perhaps to gather your thoughts.” Zevran smiled softly and quickly ducked into the other room, partially closing the door behind him.

Alistair sighed and poured himself a glass of wine. Neither he nor Zevran had much of anything to drink, afraid that they would get too tipsy to deal with the guests and… other things. He blushed at the notion. Which had him wondering why he now found himself alone in their bedroom, and what thoughts his husband had to gather. _My husband. Is he already regretting being saddled with such an inexperienced spouse?_

He sighed in frustration, took a sip of wine and looked at the tub, deciding that a soak might just be a good idea. He quickly undressed, and climbed in. He sat with his back to the door, sinking low into the water, and taking another sip of wine, finally beginning to feel the tension of the day ease. But it still wasn’t what he’d imagined his wedding night to be like. “Zev?”

There was a shuffle from the other room, the sound of a chair scraping along the floor and then Zevran popped his head through the door. “Yes, _querido_?”

_Just get him in the room. Find some way to break the ice._ “Um, I just wanted to say thank you for the wine, and the bath. It was very thoughtful.” _Please let me know you aren’t regretting this whole thing._

“You are very welcome, _mi esposo_. Do you need anything else?”

He took a deep breath then let it out. _Courage. Just say something._ “You could sit in here and talk to me.”

There was a pause as if he hadn’t been expecting the request. “If that is what you wish.” There was a hesitant quality to his voice, and that confused Alistair even more. _This is definitely not like him._ Zevran sat in a nearby chair, out of reach, and poured himself a glass of wine. Alistair sighed resignedly, and grabbed the soap. _Well, it’s closer than he was before._ In a voice more uncertain than he’d yet heard, Zevran softly asked, “Would you like me to wash your hair, _querido_?”

A burst of relief and excitement surged through him, and he fought to keep his voice level. _Finally!_ “That would be nice. Thank you.”

He waited, anticipation dragging the moment on for an eternity. He heard cloth rustling and then Zevran’s coat and shirt were tossed onto the chair. Alistair felt him kneel behind him, warm skin pressing against his back as Zevran gently took the soap from his hand. His breath was warm against Alistair’s ear. “You will need to wet your hair, _querido_ , or we will not get much of a lather.”

“Oh.” Alistair blushed and grinned, submerging himself, and trying not to splash too much. Before he had wiped the water from his face, he felt strong fingers in his hair, working the sandalwood scented soap into a rich lather. He closed his eyes, enjoying his touch. Zevran took his time, massaging his scalp and neck, dropping lower to work his way across his shoulders. “Mmmmm. Your hands feel nice.” Alistair let his head fall back against Zevran, not caring that he was getting him soapy and damp. He was completely relaxed and beginning to think about exactly where Zevran’s hands were touching, and were he’d like them to.

Zevran chuckled and murmured, “Perhaps, you will say the same later.” Alistair blushed as his heart rate sped up. _Maker, am I that obvious?_ “Will you rinse your hair for me, _querido_?” Zevran was so close he could feel his breath against his wet skin, and it made him tremble. He slipped under the water again and tried to use the moment to collect himself. When he resurfaced, Zevran was right behind him again, purring in his ear. “Alistair, would you like me to wash your back?”

_I’d like you to kiss me._ “Yes, please.” His voice was soft and husky and suddenly he couldn’t think of anything but feeling Zevran’s lips everywhere, his hands caressing his skin. He wanted him so desperately now, that every muscle was tense, trembling with the need. He heard the lathering of the soap, and whimpered softly as strong fingers worked the suds across his skin, Zevran’s hands gliding along his back, caressing him.

“Rinse again, _querido_.” Zevran’s warm breath tickled against is wet skin and all Alistair could think about was wanting those lips kissing him, everywhere. He blushed and sunk up to his ears, sluicing the suds away, and with them, any remaining nervousness.

_I want this. I want him._ He slowly sat up. “Zev.” It was said rough and soft enough that Zevran had to lean closer to hear.

“Yes, _querido_?”

His voice was like velvet, so smooth and sensual, and Alistair could only focus on Zevran’s proximity and his own nakedness. He tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck in an unspoken offering and gasped with pleasure at the first, gentle brush of warm lips against his shoulder. _Maker, yes. I want you._ “Zev.”

He moaned as the kisses gradually moved up his neck, Zevran’s lips finding the sensitive spot behind his ear, sending little quakes of pleasure through him. “Alistair.” He shivered at the longing in Zevran’s voice. _Yes. Please want me as much as I want you._ “Your skin is so soft.” His hand snaked into the water, sliding down his side and settling on his hip. Alistair gasped, wanting more, but unable to form the words. Zevran whispered, “May I touch you, _mi esposo_?” Alistair moaned softly. _Maker, aren’t you already?_ But he knew what Zevran was asking. He nodded and waited, breath held, anticipation almost unbearable. Zevran’s fingertips ghosted along his thigh and slid inward. Alistair let his head fall back onto Zevran’s bare shoulder, mouth open as Zevran’s clever fingers caressed him, closed around his thickening cock, slowly stroking. Alistair moaned and closed his eyes, wishing he could feel more of Zevran than just his bare chest. Zevran’s wicked lips continued to mouth kisses along his neck, nibbling at his skin, electrifying his whole body. “Alistair.”

“Mmmmm?” He tried to still the rocking of his hips, feeling the water slosh over the sides of the tub.

“ _Querido_ , I need to tell you something.” There was a hesitancy in his voice, a tension, and Alistair stiffened in response. “It is something that I have desired to tell you for a while.” _Maker, this can’t be good. He’s been trying to distract me so he can deliver bad news._

With extraordinary effort he gripped Zevran’s wrist and stilled his hand, concentrating on his words and not the protesting need screaming through his body. “It’s alright. You can tell me.” He took a deep breath and sat up, unable to turn around to face him. “I actually think I know what you’re going to say. I’ve expected it for a while.”

There was a long pause where neither moved or spoke and finally Zevran whispered, “Alistair, _te amo_.” He felt Zevran lean his forehead against his wet shoulder. “I love you.”

“It’s fine. I… Sorry. Didn’t quite catch that. _What_?”

Very quietly Zevran repeated, “ _Te amo_.”

Alistair gripped the sides of the tub to still his shaking hands. “Please, Zev, don’t tease. It wouldn’t be funny.”

The silence seemed to drag and he began to wonder if Zevran regretted saying it. “It is not an easy thing for me to say. But you should know.” He moved to the side of the bath, cupping Alistair’s cheek in his palm. He looked more vulnerable than Alistair recalled ever seeing him. “Because it is true. I love you, Alistair.”

Alistair surged up, water pouring off his skin, splashing over the edges of the tub, drenching the floor. He stepped out of the bath and pulled Zevran against him, soaking his clothes, but neither seemed to care. Alistair searched his face, seeing the truth of the words. He slowly lowered his lips to brush against Zevran’s soft mouth as his arms wrapped around his neck. Zevran pulled him closer, returning the kiss with equal passion and Alistair groaned, wanting more.

The hunger he’d been carefully reigning in roared to life and he fed it with the taste of Zevran’s sweet lips. Alistair sighed and stared at the gorgeous expanse of his husband’s firm muscles and bronze skin, so inviting. He kissed his shoulder, and nibbled along his neck, trying to work open Zevran’s pants. With great effort, he finally managing it, shoving the cloth down over Zevran’s hips. He stepped out of the clothing and forward into Alistair’s embrace. “ _Amor_ , I want you.”

Alistair growled deep in his throat and hauled Zevran off his feet, carrying him across the room and tumbling with him into bed. He hovered over Zevran, propped up on his elbows, hands touching whatever skin they could. “I’ve been thinking about you all night, love.” He nibbled softly along his jaw. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” He blushed but held Zevran’s gaze. “Tell me what to do.”

“I would rather show you, _amor_.” Zevran’s hands slipped around his neck, pulling him close, lips grazing against his. “Alistair.” His voice was low and hypnotic. “I, too, have been waiting for this for a very long time.” Alistair shivered as Zevran’s hands caressed his back and shoulders, wandering down his chest. “I have touched myself while thinking of you, _querido_. I have thought about how good it feels when you put your hands on me, with your beautiful mouth sucking my cock. I think about our evening in the garden.” Alistair moaned and thrust against him. He couldn’t keep his body from trembling, so incredibly aroused by Zevran’s words and touch than he ever imagined possible. “Do you think about that night, Alistair? Do you think about touching me? My taste on your tongue? The way you made me come?”

Alistair groaned, closed his eyes and rolled his hips helplessly against Zevran. “Yes. I… I think about it. A lot. Your taste… I like it.” He could feel the heat on his cheeks, a combination of arousal and embarrassment.

Zevran looked pleased with himself. “Alistair, would you like me to taste _you_?” He wiggled teasingly beneath him. “I would like to. Will you let me?” Alistair caught his breath and nodded. _Maker, this is really happening._ Zevran stilled his hips and grinned wickedly. “But you must do something for me then, _amor_.”

_Here we go with the catch._ But Alistair nodded, all too eager to agree. “Yes. Yes, name it.” _I would walk through the halls naked for you right now._ The image of Zevran’s sweet lips wrapped around his cock made him whimper and his cock ached with need.

Zevran chuckled at his enthusiasm and rolled him onto his back, straddling his hips and leaning over him. Alistair could feel the playful dominance of the posture and it made him even harder. “You must tell me what you want me to do to you, _querido_. All of the things you have thought of. And if you can, then I will do those things for you.” Zevran rolled his hips against him. “Can you do that, _amor_? Will you tell me?”

Alistair frowned. _That is a dangerous thing to promise a person. Not that he could think of much to begin with, but someone with more experience might have him doing things… well, maybe that was the point. Zevran isn’t worried that I’d think of those kinds of things._ Alistair nodded, and murmured, “I’ll try.” _Maybe someday I will surprise you, my love._

He watched Zevran slide slowly backwards, rubbing himself along the length of his body. Alistair was unable to do anything but stare and moan as Zevran buried his face in the crease between his hip and thigh, nuzzling at the sensitive flesh. “You smell _muy delicioso, amor._ ” He moaned, gripping the sheets as Zevran mouthed at his balls. He couldn’t catch his breath, imagining all the things he wanted Zevran to do to him. “Tell me, _querido_. Tell me what you want.

“I… I want you to put your mouth on me. On my cock. S… suck me.” Saying things like that out loud was more difficult than he’d imagined, and he was embarrassed by the hesitancy in his voice. But it was all forgotten when Zevran’s wet tongue licked the length of him. He gasped and squeezed his eyes closed, sure it was the best sensation he’d ever felt. And then Zevran took him into his mouth. Everything he ever thought he knew about sex changed with the flick of Zevran’s wicked tongue as it dipped into his slit, making his hips arch off the bed, straining to chase the feeling. Zevran licked around the head of his cock, rubbing the flat of his tongue against the sensitive spot where shaft met tip, and Alistair whimpered piteously. He wanted to bury his fingers in Zevran’s hair and hold his head in place, but instead he kept a firm grip on the bedding. “Ohhhhh… That feels so amazing.”

Zevran chuckled wickedly, and whispering against the wet skin, “Tell me more, Alistair. Tell me what you want me to do to you. I love to hear you say the words.” Zevran playfully bit at Alistair’s slick flesh, then took him into his mouth again, sucking lightly at the tip.

“Touch me.” He said it with confidence and Zevran smiled around his cock, his fingers caressing the backs of Alistair’s thighs. Alistair sighed in frustration knowing that Zevran was purposely teasing him. He tried again. “Touch me b...” He couldn’t get the words out so he took Zevran’s hand and gently brushed his fingers along the skin behind his balls, showing him exactly where. “ _Please_.”

He whimpered as Zevran released him from his mouth and reached beside the bed, grabbing a jar of slick and opened it. Alistair watched, heart beating quickly, as Zevran dipped his fingers in. He couldn’t keep his hips from twitching as Zevran stroked his balls and rolled them between his slick fingers before letting his hand slide lower.

His nimble fingers lightly brushed over the tight pucker of his ass, making Alistair gasp. His hips were straining to chase more of the new sensation as Zevran stroked from his balls to his hole, gently pressing a finger against his opening, gradually working it inside.

Alistair inhaled sharply then slowly let out the breath. _It feels… different. Intense. Good?_ He thought about Zevran’s mouth sucking him, feeling so perfect, his finger pressing inside him, and it turned him on more than he thought it would. Zevran was watching him closely, sliding his finger in deeper, stroking him, and Alistair moaned. “Maker. Zev, that feels good. I… I didn’t know. Ahhhhh, really good.”

Zevran slowly released his cock from his mouth, continuing to stroke him. “You look good like this, _amor_. So, perfect, spread out under me.” Alistair blushed, the praise making his cock ache a little more. Then Zevran crooked his finger, pressing inside him and suddenly everything felt more intense and he arched off the bed, back bowed, hips straining to get closer to Zevran’s hand. _Sweet Andraste, that feels so good._ His loud moan turned into a whimper as Zevran kept up the pressure, his sounds getting softer and higher with each stroke. Alistair was hurtling towards an orgasm when Zevran slowly withdrew his hand and kissed his way back up Alistair’s body. He whined at the loss of the feeling, wanting Zevran’s fingers rubbing that spot again. Zevran straddled his hips, slowly rolling against him and nuzzling into his neck, while Alistair laid there, eyes shut, panting. “Alistair, you are supposed to tell me what do you want me to do.”

Alistair grabbed his hips, stilling their motion so he could concentrate. “I want you to tell _me_ what you want me to do to you. I want to make you feel good too.” _I want to make you crazy like this._ Zevran sat up and rested his hands on his chest, and Alistair squeezed his hips. “Please.”

The deep hunger in Zevran’s eyes took his breath away. Slowly, with what looked like great effort, he came to a decision. “I want you, _mi amor. Quiero que estés dentro de mi._ I want to feel you inside me.”

Alistair blushed but he held Zevran’s gaze, body trembling. “I… I don’t know what to do. I’ve never… Will you show me?” Zevran licked his lips and Alistair whimpered.

“ _Tocame._ I want you to touch me everywhere, like I touched you.” Alistair was achingly hard. His body was screaming with need, and then Zevran was kissing him, slowly, sensually, their tongues gliding against each other, stealing what remaining breath he had. Zevran slid next to him on the bed, and Alistair rutted against his thigh, moaning quietly. He twisted his fingers into Zevran’s hair, deepening the kiss, his other hand dropping to Zevran’s hip, then sliding lower, wrapping around his cock, stroking firmly. Zevran whimpered against his lips, hips rocking into his grasp. “Your hand feels so good, _querido_. I love how you touch me.”

The words spoken breathlessly against his mouth made him ache even more, and gave him courage. He reached for the pot of slick, scooped a bit into his hand and stroked tentatively between Zevran’s legs, fingers brushing across his hole. Zevran moaned and bit his lip. “Yes. Just like that, _mi amor. Me toque de ese manera._ ” Alistair cautiously slipped the tip of a finger into him and Zevran moaned, then growled when he stopped. He thrust his hips back against Alistair’s hand and sunk down to the last knuckle, sighing with pleasure.

Alistair was captivated, watching Zevran’s face as his finger disappeared into his warm body. “Please, Alistair. _Así_.” He tried to thrust against his hand. Alistair slowly stroked him with his finger, and Zevran closed his eyes, his voice soft and husky. “ _Sí. Como eso. Pero mas dedos._ ” He opened his eyes and held Alistair’s gaze. “More fingers. _Please_.”

Alistair was nervous. He had large hands and was concerned that he’d hurt Zevran. “Alistair. _Please_ , _amor_.” He slowly pressed a second slicked finger into Zevran’s eager body. His loud moan was exciting, but Alistair almost came when Zevran pressed back and began fucking himself against his hand. “This feels so good, querido. Yes. So good.” Alistair reached between his own legs and began stroking himself, incredibly turned on by Zevran’s obvious pleasure. He slipped in a third finger, only able to push them into the second knuckle. Zevran was writhing against his hand, obviously enjoying the feeling. “Alistair. _Mi amor. Te necesito. Te quiero._ Please, I want you. Now.”

Alistair kissed him deeply, letting his fingers gently slip from him. “Yes. Show me what you want, love.” Zevran straddled his hips, reaching behind him and stroked him, coating his cock with more slick. Alistair moaned as the head of his cock slid along the crease of Zevran ass. “You’re beautiful, love. Look at you.” He gripped his thighs and fought the urge to thrust against him, holding his breath as Zevran settled over him.

At first there was resistance and Alistair thought he might be hurting him, but then his cock was being pulled inside, enveloped in tight warmth. Zevran moaned, head thrown back, face flushed with pleasure. _Maker, I’m going to come._ Zevran’s body squeezed him slowly, perfectly. Zevran rolled his hips, head lolling forward. “Alistair, _amor_ , you feel so good. You fit so perfectly.” He placed his hands on Alistair’s chest and rocked against him. “Tell me, love. Tell me how this feels for you.”

Alistair grabbed him around the hips and almost laughed. _Maker, he wants me to talk? Now?_ But he wanted to do anything for him, no matter what it was, so he tried. “You feel… warm. Tight. So good.”

Zevran smiled at him encouragingly, and rolled his hips, making them both gasp. “ _Tocame, amante._ ”

Alistair was quickly learning the _important_ Antivan words and wrapped his hand around Zevran’s cock, stroking firmly, thrusting up against him. It was all too much, a bit overwhelming, and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. “Love… Oh, Maker… I… You… feel too good.”

Zevran seemed to know what he was trying to say, and he began thrusting into his fist, slamming back onto his cock, gasping, head down, moving faster and faster. “Alistair, _me vengo, amante. Tu polla se siente tan bien._ ” His voice was low, needy, so sexy, and Alistair squeezed his eyes shut, gasping for air. Zevran cried out, calling his name as his body squeezed around him.

Alistair thrust up, gasping for breath, his body coiling in on itself, every muscle tensed almost painfully. “Zev… Oh! Zevran...” And then he was coming, the tremors pounding through him. He dug his fingers into Zevran’s hips, gasping for air as his body shuddered, scrabbling to hold onto him until the quaking stopped.

He laid there, gasping for air, taking several deep breaths before opening his eyes, suddenly seeing every swirl and fine crack in the ceiling that he’d somehow missed before. Zevran nuzzled into his neck, chuckling as he pushed himself upright, still straddling his hips. Alistair sweetly smiled up at him. “You are amazing, love.” He rubbed his hands lightly along Zevran’s thighs. He leaned down and kissed him softly, slowly rolling to the side and Alistair groaned quietly against his mouth. He pulled Zevran close and wrapped himself tightly around him. “I love you. I love you so much.” He sighed, happier than he ever remembered being.

Zevran propped himself up on his elbow and looked him in the eye. “I love you, too, Alistair. I…” Zevran seemed to struggle for words and Alistair reached up, gently stroking his cheek. Zevran leaned into his touch and tried again. “Before we met I had very low expectations for this marriage. It was something that was my duty to my country and no more should be anticipated.” Zevran laid back down, resting his head on Alistair’s shoulder. “I feel almost as though we have somehow cheated the rules.” Zevran laughed and it made his heart feel lighter.

“I’m not above cheating if it means I’d end up with you.” Alistair kissed his hair. “You are everything I thought I could never have.” He held him tightly. “I’m very lucky.”

“I am very lucky, _querido_. The life of an Antivan Crow is usually a short one. I have lived longer than many, so my time was borrowed. Now my life is quite different, and I am an Antivan Crow no longer.”

Alistair held him tightly. “You’re Ferelden now. And, as I’m the King, that makes you _mine_.”

“Yes, I _am_ yours.” Zevran kissed him softly and curled up against him, sighing contentedly. “I am The King’s Crow.”


End file.
